Tale of the Hero
by Penderdragon
Summary: As mages and templars move closer to war, Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast seeks out the Hero of Ferelden. Can she convince the snarky elf with a grudge against the Chantry to help her? No, she can't. But she can hear the Hero's tale. Rated for swearing and eventual nonexplicit sexual references.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

9:39 Dragon

City of Amaranthine

Night was falling on the city of Amaranthine.

Arl Mirevas Tabris was reclining in a chair in his personal residence, poring over news reports.

"Void take them!" he swore. The mages and templars were moving closer and closer to outright warfare. The destruction of the Kirkwall chantry and failed annulment of the Kirkwall Circle of Magi had been enough to start the ideas of rebellion, but there had been little fighting since then. It had mostly been limited to the templars squeezing harder and the mages becoming more and more upset. Now, though... now, the mages were contemplating outright secession, and there were whispers that the templars were making a contingency plan to revoke the Nevarran Accord to hunt mages if "needed".

_Damned fanatics are bad enough _with_ the Chantry keeping them in line,_ he thought worriedly. He sighed deeply, put down the report, and began walking to his bedroom. He lay down on his bed and tried to think a bit more about the mage-templar conflict. Soon, however, he was drifting off. Even after eight on-and-off years of luxury, he was still unused to it. Before he fell asleep completely, he was roused back to consciousness by a loud creaking sound.

"Heh, knew that would pay off," he muttered, referring to the old door he had specifically requested. He quietly arose, listening intently. When he heard the clinking of armor, he drew his blades Vigilance and Starfang from his weapon rack. He briefly glanced at his armor rack, but decided he didn't have time. Holding his swords at the ready, he crept down the hall, only to find... a closed door.

_Okay, so there are downsides to two weapon fighting,_ he thought. _Eh, screw subtlety. _He kicked open the door.

Standing in his entranceway was a small group of heavily armored warriors. They were were wearing black- and copper-colored armor emblazoned with what looked like the image of an eye superimposed over the sun. The pair in the back were wearing helmets; in the front stood a woman with short dark hair, amber eyes, and a large scar across her cheek. She barely flinched as he sprinted into the room and assumed a defensive stance.

A tone of cold fury in his voice, he asked, "Who are you, to invade the home of the Hero of Ferelden? Templars, come to kill me in my sleep? You've got the skirts for it, even if your armor's weird."

"If we were templars," the woman replied disdainfully, "that would be a good guess." Mirevas couldn't quite place her accent. "You _have _been vocal in your support of the mages."

"That I have. Who are you, then?"

"I am Cassandra Pentaghast of the Seekers of Truth."

"Pentaghast? Nevarran, then," Mirevas muttered, half to himself.

Cassandra stared at him with an expression somewhere between confusion and annoyance.

"What?" he asked innocently. "I couldn't place the accent."

Cassandra made a disgusted noise.

"I am trying to prevent a war, and you are wasting time on trivialities!" she said angrily.

That was enough to give him pause.

"You're... trying to stop the war from happening?" He considered this for a moment. Though he still looked wary, he lowered his blades to his sides.

"No. This doesn't make sense. The Seekers are Chantry. Not templars, but still Chantry. Why would the Chantry want my help?"

"You are one of the most respected and feared warriors in Thedas. The only other person in all of Ferelden who might have more respect from the people than you is the king. You are one of the few people in the entirety of Thedas who have a chance of resolving this peacefully," she explained.

"Well, I'm certainly not going to argue with that," he smirked, "but that's not quite what I meant." His eyes hardened. "What I meant was, 'Why do you think I would possibly consider helping you?'"

Taken aback, Cassandra replied, "Surely you cannot approve of the world falling into chaos!"

"...maybe not," he admitted, after considering it. "But I approve even less of helping the Chantry in their efforts to keep oppressing people."

Cassandra narrowed her eyes and scowled. "The Chantry-"

"No!" he interrupted. "Don't even _try_ to tell me 'the Chantry doesn't oppress people!' or 'it isn't the Chantry's fault!' because I've heard it all a thousand times, and it's always _bullshit_. Let me remind you of a few things: My people's second homeland was destroyed when the Orlesian Empire decided it wanted more land, and the Chantry completely endorsed the war. Then the Chantry decided that a _knife-ear_ couldn't possibly have been an ally and friend of Andraste, and they vilified one of the greatest heroes of the _real_ Exalted March. The elves have lived in poverty, slavery, or isolation for the past seven ages. All because of the Chantry. I'll ask again: _Why should I help you?_"

"We were speaking of mages, not elves," Cassandra retorted.

A humorless grin crossed his face. "You want to talk about mages?" he asked. "Fine. 9:30. Kinloch Hold was nearly annulled due to the incompetence of your templars. An unknown time, ending in 9:34. A templar in Kirkwall was illegally making mage girls Tranquil so he could use them as sex slaves. He wouldn't have faced any kind of justice from the Chantry. 9:37. The Gallows were nearly annulled because of the actions of a mage not even part of the Circle. Templars are chosen for fanaticism over morality. The Chantry addicts them to lyrium so even if they have misgivings, the won't risk losing the dust. Mages are treated like subhuman... such as it is... scum by the Chantry because of the gifts the Maker gave them.

"So, in short: No, I won't help you, you oppressive traitorous bastards. Andraste guide you, and don't let the door hit you on the way out."

"No! You must-"

In one swift movement, Mirevas crossed the gap between him and Cassandra and held Vigilance just away from Cassandra's throat.

"There is _nothing_ that I _must_ do," he hissed. "Get out of my house while you still draw breath."

With only a slight waver audible in her voice, Cassandra pleaded, "Please, if you will not help us, at least let us understand what is happening."

"Wow. Maintaining calm, even when there's a blade to your throat. You've got balls... so to speak. I can respect that. What do you want to know?"

Unable to suppress a sigh of relief, Cassandra replied, "Anything that you can tell us that might help us bring peace. You were in contact with the apostate Anders up until his act of terrorism, were you not?"

"Yes... I _was_. I count him among my closest friends."

"You... _count_ him? Surely you mean you _counted_?"

"I don't often misspeak, Seeker. Now, I'll tell you what you want to know. But it's late, so come back in the morning."

He moved Vigilance away from Cassandra's throat, loosened his stance, and began walking away. As he walked, he heard Cassandra's voice, slightly muffled, as though she was resting her head in her hand.

"Maker's breath... What have I gotten myself into?"

"Perhaps we should have gone to Kirkwall first," one of her companions chimed in.

"Out!" Mirevas yelled down the hall. He stowed Vigilance and Starfang, then collapsed into bed.

This time, there were no interruptions.

* * *

**AN**: A few timeline points, in case there's confusion:

9:37: Dragon Age II (Act 3)

9:40: The revocation of the Nevarran Accord, Dragon Age II (framing device)

There's more ambiguity as to when the Circles rebelled, but for this story, I'm saying it happened either near the end of 9:39 or later.


	2. 1: TCBtSBtCBtSBtCBtS

**Chapter 1: The Calm Before the Storm Before the Calm Before the Storm Before the Calm Before the Storm**

9:39 Dragon

City of Amaranthine

The Next Day

Mirevas was awakened by a loud knocking sound from his door. Grumbling, he rose, pulled his clothes on, and retrieved his swords. It never hurts to be prepared.

"Andraste's Maker-ogled tits, can't people ever sleep in?" he muttered, glaring out the window at the newly-risen sun.

As he walked past his table, he dropped his swords with a clatter. He continued to the door and opened it with a scowl.

"You'll talk to me alone," he snapped, "or not at all. Understood?"

"Fine, whatever," Cassandra replied, dismissing her companions.

"Come in, then." He led her to what he affectionately called his "telling-people-things room". It was a relatively small area. Its only furniture was a small table with a few chairs around it and another in the corner. The last chair was occupied by a human woman tuning a lute.

"Don't mind her," Mirevas said, responding to Cassandras surprised/suspicious expression. "She's just my minstrel."

"Your... minstrel?" I'm confused," Cassandra admitted. "Do you not want to keep your story secret?"

Mirevas genuinely laughed. "The only reason so few people know my whole story is that they didn't ask."

"But then... why did you did you send my men away?" Cassandra asked.

"Because I enjoy pissing off Chantry folk," came his easy reply.

She rested her head on her palm, took a deep breath, and replied, "Fine. You succeeded quite well. Now please begin."

"Thank you," the elf smirked. "Where should I start?"

"Start at the beginning."

"Are you sure? It's a long story."

"Yes! The beginning!" Cassandra snapped impatiently.

"All right, all right. The beginning... Well, several millennia ago, the elves inhabited all of Thedas, as the Elvhenan, often considered to be the first civili-"

"Not _that_ beginning!" Cassandra interrupted.

"Ah, okay, started too late, then? The Chant of Light says that in time immemorial, the Maker created His first children, and their home, the F-"

"That's not what I meant either, and you know it!" she yelled.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mirevas replied innocently. "You did say to start at the beginning, Seeker."

"Yes, but I asked for information, not a damn history lesson!"

"Fine. You're no fun. _My_ story, from the beginning: Let's go with 9:30, my... well, _would-be _wedding."

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Elven Alienage, Denerim

I can still remember what it felt like, sleeping on my hard bed in a too-small room in a too-small house in a dismal, crime-ridden alienage. It was awful, in hindsight, but then it was home, and I wouldn't have given it up for anything.

I can also remember what _I _was like back then. Maker, I must have been... 20ish? I looked mostly the same—same shoulder-length red-brown hair, same green eyes, same pointy facial features. I remember it was hard then too to pull off the long-hair look with the ears sticking out, but I like to think I did alright. One big difference is that back then, I didn't have any scars. Now they're everywhere—my face, my arms, my chest, my... soul... I'm getting sidetracked.

"Cousin! Wake up!" I heard a familiar voice ring out.

"Ugh..." I muttered to myself, only half-awake. "Go away, Shianni. Let me sleep." Shianni's one of my cousins—pay attention, she'll be important in a bit.

"Come on!" she insisted. "Don't you remember what today is?"

I blinked my eyes open a few times, then surreptitiously sniffed the air.

"Get drunk before noon day?" I guessed.

"What? No!" She stealthily smelled her breath. "Yeah, no... Anyway, it's your big day! You're getting married."

"Oh. Right," I replied snippily. "That's what's happening."

"I still don't understand why you're so opposed to this."

"The fact that I've never met this woman might have a little bit to do with it..."

She sighed sympathetically. "Listen, Re. I get why you don't like this. But we both know that there aren't enough of us left to be picky. Besides, I saw your bride-to-be, and she's beautiful."

I gave her a beleaguered smile and teasingly said, "Well, let's see what she looks like to someone sober." I rose blearily and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes.

"You're such an ass!" she said, punching me on the arm.

"Contact me when you find _new_ information," I snarked.

"Whatever. Just get dressed. Soris is waiting for you outside."

She rushed away. I stretched my arms a few times, shook off the last of my grogginess, and walked to the next room. My father, Cyrion, was waiting.

"Good morning, my son," he greeted warmly. "I just wish your mother could have been here to see your big day."

"Ugh," I groaned. "I didn't think it was going to be so soon. Can't it be delayed at all?"

"I know it's earlier than you expected, but your bride was sent earlier than planned. Perhaps there was trouble at the Highever Alienage."

"Not what I meant, Father," I sighed, then continued, "All right, if this is happening, tell me about my betrothed."

"She's the eldest daughter of a good family, skilled at crafts, and yes, since I know you'll ask, quite pretty."

"I suppose that's just the way it is," I shrugged.

"Try not to think of as a burden, son. Go find Soris. The sooner this wedding starts, the less time you two have to escape."

"Don't tempt me, Father."

"Still have your mother's sharp tongue, I see... Oh that reminds me: I'd advise that you keep the swordplay your mother taught you to yourself."

"I can't exactly keep it a secret forever."

"Well, you can for a while, can't you? Adaia made the mistake of seeming like a troublemaker."

"No, Father. I'd say the blame for that pretty much lies on her murderers."

"True," he sighed. "There is so much injustice in this world." he shook his head gently. "Here. These were your mother's. It's the least I can give you as you start your new life." He handed me a finely-made pair of leather boots.

"I don't know what's more embarrassing," I joked, "that you think my mother's boots will fit me or that you're probably right. Well, time to go, I suppose." I walked out the door. The streets were dirty and cramped, and a group of people drunk off their asses stood about ten feet away. If I had known what was to come, though, I would have savored those moments.

I strode down the street and talked to an older couple, who were old friends of my mother's. They said she was "beautiful, and full of life, but also a bit wild". It sounded like her.

After that, I kept walking. One memory sticks out. I encountered two kids, playing in the streets. They didn't think there were any elven heroes, so they were pretending to be human. I told them the story of the great warrior Blargha. It was bullshit, but I couldn't think of a real hero that wouldn't risk their lives to know. It gave them a reason to be proud to be elven, anyway. ...I'm getting off-topic. Soris!

"Cousin!" he said as I approached, "care to celebrate the end of our independence?"

"Any way we could just run away?"

"What? Just get past the gate and the walls and go live in the trees or something? I don't think either of us could survive in the wilderness, Re."

"I never said it was a _good_ idea. I was just thinking out loud. I really don't like this arranged marriage business."

"What have you got to not like? Your bride is apparently beautiful, and mine apparently resembles a dying animal."

"Look on the bright side. Maybe you can get a cage for a wedding present," I snarked.

Through snickers, he insincerely insisted, "That's terrible!" Calming down, he continued, "Let's go meet your 'dreamy betrothed', then."

I began walking in that direction. I was almost content, for ten seconds or so. Then everything went to shit.

As I approached the platform on which I was to be married, I saw a human lord. Vaughan **fucking** Kendells, to be specific. The son of the then-Arl of Denerim, but I didn't know at the time. All I knew then was that he had just walked up with a couple of other human cronies and grabbed an elven woman. Then, just to make his intentions absolutely clear, he told his companions, "It's a party, isn't it? Grab a whore and have a good time!" To cap it all off, he let out the most evil laugh I have ever heard. Shianni responded to a lewd comment he made by telling him, "Touch me and I'll gut you, you pig!" By now, Soris and I had drawn near. Soris advised me to be cautious; I, in turn, advised him to get out of my way.

When Vaughan saw me approaching, he turned to face me and mockingly asked, "What is this, the two grooms come to greet me personally?"

"There are a few things I'd like to personally introduce you to," I responded coldly.

"Do you know who I am?" he hissed arrogantly.

"Well, evidently less than you think you are."

"You kn-"

His slur was cut short by Shianni, who snuck up behind him and smashed a bottle on the back of his head. He collapsed to the ground.

"Are you insane?" one of his companions asked. "This is the son of Urien Kendalls, the Arl of Denerim!"

"Oh, Maker..." Shianni whispered.

"If his father's the Arl, why didn't he ever learn manners?" I snapped, instantly regretting the words.

"You crazy knife-ears have a lot of nerve. Someone will pay for this," another human claimed, grabbing Vaughan's slumped, limp body.

* * *

A few minutes later, after the humans had gone. Shianni asked, "I really screwed up this time, Re, didn't I?"

I scoffed, trying to appear confident. "He'll never admit that a little knife-ear girl took him down," I suggested, sounding more confident than I felt. "His pride wouldn't be able to handle it."

She sighed. "Maker, I hope you're right." With that, she turned away, still looking scared.

"C'mon," Soris muttered, also clearly still distracted. I followed him a short distance away. He pointed out two women in the elven equivalent of finery. They were our betrotheds. They were both moderately attractive—mine, Nesiara, slightly more so.

"If we're lucky, this won't interfere with the rest of the day," Soris hoped. He introduced the group. I had a brief, unremarkable conversation with Nesiara, then Soris politely sent the pair away so we could focus on a more interesting topic—a human who had just walked in.

"He could be one of Vaughan's men," Soris whispered, "but whether or not he is, we need him to leave before he or one of the elves starts something."

"Let's go talk."

"Yeah, just... let's do it fast, OK?"

We approached the man. He was very different from any elf and most of the few humans I'd seen. He had a dark complexion and a very long, thick beard. In addition, his armor looked to be of fine make, and he had two high-quality blades attached to his back. I tentatively approached him.

"Good day to you," he greeted. "I believe you are due congratulations for your wedding?"

That really threw me. A human—a _shemlen—_speaking to me with politeness that seemed genuine? It seemed impossible.

"I... thank you, ser, but it would be best if you were not to linger. The drinks have been flowing freely, and tensions are already high today."

"I appreciate your concern, but I cannot leave."

"In that case, be careful. Alienages aren't friendly to humans at the best of times, and we are far from the best of times."

"I will." He turned to an old, white-haired elf walking up to us. "It is rare to see such composure, especially when confronting an unknown and well-armed foe, Valendrian."

The elf, Elder Valendrian, hahren of the Denerim Alienage, responded, "Indeed. There are too few willing to stay their blades. It is good to see you, old friend."

My eyes widened. "I am sorry; I wasn't aware you were friends with the Elder."

"It is hardly your fault," the human assured me.

"May I present Duncan, Commander of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden."

"A Warden?" I asked, surprised. "Here? Now? Why?"

"The worst has happened. A new Blight rises, and the king has called Ferelden's Grey Wardens to Ostagar fortress, in the south."

Still skeptical, I incredulously asked, "And you just happened to pass through the slums on your way?"

"Mirevas!" Elder Valendrian cried.

"I was visiting Valendrian, an old friend."

"That's it? You weren't recruiting?"

"I might. In time," Duncan admitted. "For now, enjoy your celebrations."

"So... there are elven Wardens, then?" I asked tentatively.

"We... accept all into our ranks. Did you think we would bar elves, or choose not to recruit them? Garahel, slayer of the Archdemon Andoral and vanquisher of the Fourth Blight, was an elf. I could tell more stories, but I shouldn't keep you."

"Did you recruit someone from this alienage? I can't think of any other reason a Warden and a hahren would become friends."

"Quite astute," Duncan chuckled, "and quite right. I tried to recruit your mother, in fact. Almost twenty years ago, now."

"You..." I hesitated, "you tried to recruit my mother? Really?"

"She was a skilled and passionate warrior, and would have made an excellent Grey Warden."

"But she didn't. She never joined."

"No. There was no urgent need for recruits, as the last Blight was four ages ago. It was eventually decided that it was best for her and her family if she stayed with them. If I am not mistaken, however, she passed those skills onto you?"

"She did, since I was barely old enough to lift one blade at a time. Until she died."

"I am truly sorry for your loss. Now, we can speak more of this later, but you really must go. It wouldn't do for you to miss your own wedding."

"I'd like to talk more..." I half-muttered, still somewhat stunned at hearing a human talk to me like an equal. Dumbly, I turned and walked around the vhenadahl toward the platform where the weddings were to take place. Then things _really_ went to shit.

* * *

**AN**: Big thanks to Pintsizedpsycho for the review!


	3. 2: TSBtCBtSBtCBtS

**Chapter 2: The Storm Before the Calm Before the Storm Before the Calm Before the Storm**

9:39 Dragon

City of Amaranthine

"Well, that's a good time for a break," Mirevas suggested.

"What? You were just about to talk about-"

"Enthralled, huh, Seeker? I'm a better storyteller than I thought, apparently. It's called 'increasing the tension'."

Mirevas stood, left the room, and returned with a drink in his hand.

"Always useful to stay hydrated during storytelling," he quipped. "So, can you guess why I've gone into, some might say, unnecessary detail in my tale?"

"You are completely insane?" Cassandra guessed.

"No. I just want you understand a bit better what alienages are like, and by extension, why I feel as I do toward the Chantry. The insanity is completely unrelated. Speaking of the Chantry," he turned to address his minstrel, "Can we have a special song for our Chantry friend?"

Understanding his request, she began to strum the first notes to "Enchanters", a popular pro-Libertarian song.

"Halewell is a true artist, isn't she?" Mirevas asked, feigning obliviousness.

"I know you are trying to get under my skin, and it will not work. Continue, please."

The elf mock-pouted. "Fine. Shocking/melancholic, please," he suggested of his minstrel. As a slow tune built up, he continued, "Where was I? Oh, yes, 'everything was about to **really** go to shit.'..."

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Elven Alienage, City of Denerim

I walked onto the platform, resigned, if not content. A priest was standing ready to begin the weddings- a human, of course, not an elf. Everyone knows that the spirits were the Maker's first children, the humans His second children, and the elves His drunken bastards. When we arrived, she began to say things. I don't remember what—they were boring and I was only half-paying attention even then. Something about us meeting to join people together under the Maker's sight.

Then Vaughan returned. This time, in addition to the nobles who were with him the first time, he was accompanied by armed and armored guards. Actually, maybe "lackeys" would be a better word, because their focus was definitely not on guarding anyone.

"You are interrupting a wedding!" the priest asserted with uncharacteristic force.

Vaughan glanced at her for a few seconds with scorn on his face, then looked away and scoffed disgustedly.

"Feel free to dress your knife-ear pets in fancy costumes and play pretend in the slums all you like, but don't call this farce a 'wedding'." Ignoring her continued protests, he loudly announced, "Now, I've graced your dirty sewer hole with my appearance because I need a few... _female guests_ for a party I'm throwing, and I'm sure you _wonderful_ people will be more than happy to oblige."

Furious, I took a few steps toward him and all but screamed, "You will not-"

I was floored by a massive punch from the noble. Before I could even react, he had slashed me across my face with a hidden dagger.

Sneering at my prone form, he spat, "Take that scar as a reminder to mind your place, uppity knife-ear." Then he turned and began pointing out women beyond my view.

"Her. Her. That one. _She_ really is... pretty. That one. That one. Her. And where's the whore who cheap-shot me with a bottle?"

"Over here, ser!" I heard another human voice yell.

"Good. Grab her too. Taming _her _will be fun... Come, men! We have a party to get to."

He turned back to the remaining elves and smirked. "Don't worry," he assured, "they'll be returned. Eventually." He glanced at me, just beginning to rise back to my feet, and looked at me with scorn and condescension. "Your 'brides' will be returned... well, there'll be something left for you to marry, anyway."

With a mocking wave, his troops and prisoners began marching toward the alienage's gate.

Glaring furiously at the retreating group, my fists clenched and I felt rage build in me.

"Someone get me a cloth," I muttered. Facial bleeding was definitely not how I wanted to die, especially not that day.

"Are you okay?" Soris asked.

Rolling my eyes, I responded, "Soris, I was just punched really hard in the face and given a wound that will likely permanently scar, and eight women were just taken so some human nobles, and I use _both_ of those words loosely, can have their way with them. Do I _sound_ okay?!"

"No..."

"There's your answer." Someone came up with the cloth I'd asked for, so I could wipe the blood off my face and stop the bleeding. "What are we doing?"

"I don't know," Soris admitted. "Valendrian is talking to that Grey Warden. Everyone's getting agitated."

"No shit. I can't imagine why. We need to help."

"Yeah. We do," Soris agreed. He pointed across the street, where Valendrian and Duncan were standing in front of a crowd of angry elves. "They're over near the vhenadahl."

As we approached, I heard Valendrian saying, "I understand your anger, but we can't do anything about this."

A woman near the front of the crowd concurred, saying, "Chasing them will only make things worse!"

"What?!" a man asked. "Those bastards took my sister! Are we just supposed to let that go?"

"We can't just let this happen!" I agreed.

Valendrian sighed. "I would normally suggest patience, but I've heard the arl's son has... strong appetites," he admitted.

"Then we need to do something!"

"What are you going to do?" the woman asked mockingly. "Attack the_ arl's palace?_ The second-most well defended spot in the city, after the royal palace itself?"

"The knights and arl have been called to Ostagar," someone informed. "There will still be guards, though."

Another elf stepped forward. "I am a servant at the palace, and I might be able to sneak a few people through the servant's entrance. No one will notice a few more of us in the palace."

I hesitated. "That would mean a fight, wouldn't it? We can't get out the same way, not with eight more people following."

"If anyone could do this, it's Soris and you," my father said. "Your mother taught you well."

Duncan spoke up, offering, "I can give you my sword and bow. No one deserves to have their loved ones threatened without being able to fight back."

"You're all insane!" the woman yelled. "This is worse than suicide! They'll get themselves killed for nothing and bring the guards' wrath on all of us!"

More confident, I said, "I'll do it."

"You think two people who are barely men can be 'heroes'?"

I turned on her, staring fixedly at her face. "I think that the shemlen who took our women have no idea who they're dealing with."

"Wow. Impulsive, suicidal, _and_ arrogant. What a great person to 'save' us."

"Enough!" I yelled. "I've decided. I'm going. That is _final._ If I learned I had to storm the arl's palace armed with nothing but rage and my _fists_, I would. And I would _succeed._"

"Uh... OK," our elf on the inside said. "Meet me by the gate."

Giving one final glare to the woman, I gestured to Soris to follow me to the gate. Behind me, I heard Valendrian say, "This must happen. For our honor and the women's. May the Maker watch over us all."

The gate stood in front of us, enormous and unmoving. I had never crossed that gate, for as long as I could remember.

"I've sent word ahead. The servant's quarters will be open. Here, I have some clothes. Change on the way."

We walked to the palace. It was uneventful; the only thing sticking out in my mind from that walk is the thought _Maker, all humans_ are_ that tall. _The man we'd been traveling with suggested, "Try to carry your weapons like you have no idea what to do with them. Then you can pass yourself off as delivery boys." When I saw the palace for the first time, my first thought was _That place is huge. _The second was _Wait. That place is _huge._ You could fit the whole alienage in there, and it's the home of one family? __Damn__ shemlen._

When we reached the entrance, the man gave us one final warning to be careful, and we went through the door. We walked quietly through a few rooms, past a woeful guard of one man snoring against the wall, into the kitchen. We tried to walk past the cook, but he saw us and turned to face us.

"What are you lot doing here?"

"Delivering weapons, ser," I lied.

"'Delivering weapons', huh? Delivering them right into the lord's back, more like. I should call the guards to wring your scrawny n-"

An elven servant knocked him out from behind with a well place elbow-strike to the head.

"That shem had it coming," he remarked.

"No doubt," I replied. "Have you seen a group of elven women?"

"Through the building further, in Vaughan's room. Hurry. I've been here awhile, so I know he's not exactly kind or patient. Now, I'm leaving while I still can." He began running towards the entrance.

Walking past the cook's unconscious body, I tentatively opened the door. This was the dining room, as evidenced by the table. I had taken a few steps into the room when a small group of off-duty guards noticed us.

"What are you doing here?" was quickly replaced by "Why do you have weapons, elves?" and finally "You'll die quickly!" when the "delivery" excuse didn't work out.

At that, I drew the sword Duncan loaned me and my dagger, and Soris drew Duncan's bow. Thankfully, these guards were more than slightly drunk. I dodged a lurching blow from one and parried another. Soris quickly took out a crossbowman before he could shoot either of our unarmored bodies. I made a sweeping attack aimed at the remaining two, drawing blood. Then, at once, I turned away one of their blades and sunk my dagger into the other's chest. After exchanging a few parries, I struck the last with a mortal slash to the neck.

I blinked a few times. _Focus first, trauma over taking life later_, I decided. I pulled my dagger out with a squelching sound.

"Ugh. That is a _lot_ of blood," I muttered. "We need to move quickly. Let's go."

We traveled through a few more halls, dodging guards here and there. His security really was not very good. Then we walked through to one of the more disturbing parts of that day. I walked into a group of armored warriors surrounding the corpse of an elven woman.

"Well, one less elf in the world," one quipped.

"Too bad we didn't have more time. That one had a nice body."

The third asked, "Well, are you that picky? She's still warm."

I couldn't suppress a sound of disgust, alerting the leader.

"What do we have here?" he asked. "Doesn't matter. No witnesses, boys!"

These ones I wasn't broken up over killing. With rage-powered strength and speed, I stabbed one through the armor-face-hole with my dagger and punched through the chainmail legging of another with a sword-thrust. Those two dead or disabled, I focused on the third, who was wielding a two-handed sword. It was slow and fairly easy to dodge, but he got in a few partially deflected hits before I managed to thrust my sword through his neck. The whole fight lasted less than ten furious, fast-paced seconds.

I regarded the man lying on the floor, blood flowing from his lower leg, alternating between whimpers and low-volume screams. He glared at me through the screams and tears.

"Hurts, doesn't it? I asked coldly. "You feel like you'll never heal, and even if you do, you'll never be the same again? That's what_ your victims_ feel like." I spat on the ground and continued to walk, abandoning the wounded man.

"I can't believe they killed her!" Soris said, temporarily stopping to regard the elven corpse.

"She won't be the last if we don't hurry, Soris. We need to save the rest!"

"Yeah, you're right. A few moments might make the difference."

Past that room was a long hallway.

"I think we can guess which is the way to Vaughan's," I whispered, pointing out a large door on the far end of the hall. "Let's be quiet. We don't want to draw any _more_ unwanted attention."

The pair of us quietly walked past several doors and managed to stay unnoticed through the hall. The next room was what appeared to be the main entrance hall, with a big sort of roundish pair of doors on one side, presumably leading outside. We continued, and finally came to a hallway leading to a room with a guard stationed outside.

"That's probably Vaughan's room," I whispered. I motioned to Soris.

An arrow flew from the shadows and crashed into the guard with a _thunk_, causing him to slump to the ground.

"Let's go!" I whispered, and we rushed toward the door. I grabbed the doorknob, and turned it with such force I was almost worried I would break it. With a slam, I opened the door to see...

Shianni, lying on the floor, crying.

Vaughan, laughing and sneering above her.

White-hot fury began to build inside me.

"What do we have here?" Vaughan asked, looking to see me.

"We can deal with 'em!" another noble standing behind him offered.

"Those knife-ears might be a bit more formidable than you think, fools! They're covered in blood, and it doesn't look like it's theirs. Now, what does that mean, hmm?"

The rage inside me boiled over.

"**YOU FUCKING SHEMLEN BASTARD!**"

Vaughan, for his part, took this quite stoically.

"No need to be hasty. Can't we talk about this?"

"We have **nothing** to talk about."

Shianni, still crying, spoke up.

"Please, I just want to go home..."

"Say what you have to say," I commanded, still glaring with the intensity of the sun. "It'll extend your life a few minutes, anyway."

"You can't win. Not really. Even if you kill me, and gain your petty vengeance, you and the elves will still pay for it. My counter-offer: Take forty sovereigns and leave Denerim. No repercussions, and we never see each other again."

I faltered for a fraction of a second. Forty sovereigns was more than I expected to see in a lifetime. But the temptation didn't last long.

"I don't know what's more insulting, that you think I'm willing to sell my soul and my friends or that you think I would trust _you. _I'm going to enjoy this..."

"Knife-ear fools!" Vaughan yelled, drawing his sword and beckoning his allies to do the same.

The fight was not much of a challenge. Vaughan's two noble cronies weren't even wearing armor, so they were easily dispatched with thrusts and well-placed slashes. Vaughan was lightly armored, and actually a decent fighter, but he couldn't keep up with the rage-filled speed of my blades, spinning, swinging, and blocking his attacks. He was able to briefly push toward me, and hold off my attacks for longer, but eventually his blades were knocked out of his hands. That was when, after inflicting dozens of small to medium scratches and cuts, I, with one furious motion, sliced my blade cleanly through his neck, severing it.

I glared at the headless corpse, covered in blood. I spat on it, and wiped the blood from my blades on one of the few clean patches of the nobles' robes.

Shaking slightly, Soris asked, "He's dead. Did we do the right thing, Re?"

"Yes," was my blunt response. "Now, we need to check on Shianni."

"You do that, and I'll find the others." He ran off to check the back rooms.

I turned and walked to Shianni. She was still sobbing softly.

That's the problem with turning grief into anger. It can never last. Eventually, the focus of your anger will be gone, and the sorrow will return full-force.

"Please... don't leave... I just... please, I want to go home."

"Of course we can go home, Shianni," I responded gently. "Don't worry. I won't leave you."

"Thank you so much... All the blood... You killed them?"

"All of them. Everyone who hurt you. And Vaughan, well... there's his body and there's his head. Maybe the Maker Himself could heal that kind of wound, but I doubt He'll be turning His gaze on Vaughan anytime soon."

"Good..." was her quiet, simple reply.

Soris and Valora (his betrothed) walked in. After seeing the situation, Valora asked, "Is... is she going to be alright?"

"I hope so."

"Shianni will recover. She's strong," Nesiara said aloofly, also walking into the room.

"We need to get out of here," I said.

"No arguments here," Soris responded. "Lead the way."

* * *

When we returned, Duncan and Valendrian were waiting.

"What happened?" Valendrian asked.

"I would prefer to tell you alone, Elder."

"I understand. If you ladies wouldn't mind..."

Nesiara and Valora began taking Shianni home. _She definitely needs rest,_ I thought.

"Now, what happened?"

"A lot happened. Nola is dead. She resisted, and the guards ran her through... Wow. _Really_ bad phrasing. Killed her, I mean. I had to kill ten or so guards on the way after they attacked me. I found Vaughan, but... not soon enough to protect Shianni."

"It was all you could do," Valendrian consoled. "I suppose Vaughan is dead, then?"

"A bit more than dead, Elder..."

Duncan cut in.

"If he's dead, the garrison will be here soon."

"What should we do?"

Before he could answer, someone yelled, "The guards are here!"

On cue, a small group of guards marched in.

"I seek Valendrian, elder of the alienage," he commanded.

Valendrian walked forward, maintaining calm.

"You are here about the... disturbance... earlier, I take it?"

The guard, looking annoyed, snapped, "Don't play innocent with me! There will be justice! The arl's son is dead, lying in a river of blood running through the palace! Names!"

Soris and I exchanged glances. It wasn't easy, but I knew that Soris was a decent shot but terrible in an actual fight, so I couldn't let him get caught. I might be able to fight my way out, escape, or just survive longer. I couldn't imagine Soris locked in the dungeons or executed.

"It was me," I stated, stepping forward.

"One elf couldn't do all of that!" the captain scoffed.

"We are not all so helpless as you believe..." Valendrian said calmly.

"If that's true... I am impressed by your courage in stepping forward, if not for your sense, elf." He addressed the gathered crowd. "This elf will be taken to the dungeons pending the arl's return to Denerim. The rest of you, to your homes!"

"A word, Captain?" Duncan interjected.

"Yes, Warden?" the captain responded.

"I am invoking my Right of Conscription, removing this prisoner to my custody."

That was a huge shock. I was prepared for execution, imprisonment, torture, starvation... then Duncan said that simple seven-word phrase, "I am invoking my Right of Conscription", and all of those fears were gone. I was speechless.

"Damn—all right, Warden. I cannot challenge your right; just get this elf out of Denerim. Today."

The group marched away, grumbling.

Duncan turned to me. He said, "Say your goodbyes; we need to leave as soon as we can."

Still in shock, I muttered, "Okay... I understand."

Shaking my head, I turned to Soris.

"I guess this is goodbye, cos... Thank you. You lied to save me, and because of you, I'm not being dragged off to the dungeons. You really are a hero, aren't you?"

"I try."

"Are you going to see Shianni before you go?"

"Of course I am. Bye, Soris. Hope we can meet again under happier circumstances."

I talked a bit to Valendrian. Mostly it was just "'Goodbye, Elder','Goodbye, child'."

Then I walked past the vhenadahl to my house. Or at that point, my former house. My father was standing outside.

"If this is the Maker's plan, then good luck," he told me. Your mother would have been proud."

"Goodbye, Father. Maker watch over you."

"And the same for you. Be strong. We'll all miss you."

Blinking back tears, I continued into the house.

Valora was standing near the front, and she called Nesiara to talk to me, after thanking me for all I'd done. Nesiara addressed me.

"So. Not getting married after all."

I smiled weakly. "Probably would've been worth it, honestly. But hey! I get to 'see the world'!"

"Maybe. Maybe not. But you were very brave. Good luck. I won't forget all you've done for me and everyone. Your cousin wants to see you before you go." She walked past me out the door.

Cautiously, I walked across the room toward the nook where Shianni was.

"I heard you took responsibility for what happened. That is amazing," she said.

"Are you kidding?" I laughed. "I just did it because Soris wouldn't last a day in the dungeons. But seriously, how are you holding up?"

"I'd be lying if I said I was fine, but I _am _holding up. No one knows exactly what happened except you two. I don't want people treating me differently."

"I understand."

"But what you did—that was above and beyond what anyone would call reasonable. To save me, you cut through a dozen well-armed guards with nothing more than bloodstained wedding clothes and a few borrowed weapons. And there you were, saving me at the darkest moment, fire in your eyes and blades in your hands."

She paused.

"Re... make us proud out out there."

"Believe me, I'm going to try. Hopefully I can see you guys again someday."

"Maker watch over you."

I slowly walked out the door, down the street, past the vhenadahl, and stood before Duncan.

"I'm ready to go," I said quietly.

"Good," he responded. "Then we leave for Ostagar at once."

* * *

**AN**: Thanks to Pintsizedpsycho and Darkly Tranquil for the reviews!

* * *

**AN 2**: Of what I've written so far, the line I most wish was actually in the game is by far "**YOU FUCKING SHEMLEN BASTARD!"**


	4. 3: Interlude

**Chapter 3: Interlude**

9:39 Dragon

City of Amaranthine

"So," Cassandra began, "the Hero of Ferelden, defeater of the Archdemon Urthemiel, vanquisher of the Fifth Blight got his start... murdering a noble."

With a tone of offense that was part mocking and part genuine, Mirevas retorted, "No. I got my start killing a serial rapist who'd just had his way with my cousin. It's called 'perspective', Seeker, and you could do with some. In any case, I would never use the word 'noble' to describe Vaughan Kendells."

"I see. This is unexpected, but not surprising. I am certainly not going to condemn ending a monster like that."

"That's the spirit!"

"Ugh," Casandra muttered disgustedly. "That day was soon before the Battle of Ostagar, correct?"

"A few weeks before," he clarified. "Denerim isn't exactly near the Korcari Wilds. There's a bit more to the story before then, though. Why?"

"They say the Champion of Kirkwall fought in that battle..."

"Oh. It's about Hawke. Somehow, I should have guessed. Are you going to try to recruit her too, or are you just looking for a scapegoat?"

Cassandra slammed her fist down on the table.

"Hawke and her companions were responsible for the Kirkwall Rebellion, and it's because of them things are spiraling out of control!"

"Do you really think that?" Mirevas asked. "You know what, I'm not arguing with you on this. You're wrong about the battle, too. Care for me to continue?"

"Please do," Cassandra responded through gritted teeth.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Just outside Denerim

At this point, right after Duncan and I had left Denerim, I was emotionally drained. I had come off a massive adrenaline high only to be subjected to ten minutes or so of very final-seeming goodbyes. At that point, I just wanted to walk, unthinking. So it was quite a surprise what I felt a few minutes later.

We had walked a fair distance from Denerim at that point. I turned back to give the city one last longing look. I knew that even if were to ever return, the city would never be home again. As I turned back to the Imperial Highway, I took a slow deep breath, which gave me a woozy, almost intoxicating feeling.

"_Whoa_," I whispered, clutching my forehead.

Duncan turned to face me.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No... It's just... the smell." I made a few clearing shakes of my head.

"The smell?" He experimentally sniffed the air a few times. "I don't smell anything."

"That's what I mean," I explained. "No aroma of booze, or stale piss, or sweat. Just the smell of grass, hanging in the air. I never thought about the alienage's smell much, but now that it's gone... Just _whoa._"

"Had you never left the alienage before today?"

"Not in my memory, no. They don't let kids leave, for our safety. I would have started to go out soon, to search for jobs, but... well, that isn't going to be happening."

"Ah. I would advise caution, in that case. Many things about the world will seem strange to you."

"I know! How do humans hear anything with those tiny ears?"

Duncan chuckled.

"We manage. What _is_ your knowledge of the world?"

I thought for a moment.

"I... know a lot about Denerim, and a fair amount about Ferelden. I know Orlais is to the west, and we Fereldans don't like them, because they conquered us. Then Loghain and Maric pushed them out. I know the Free Marches are past the Waking Sea. I know Tevinter's far to the north, and people talk about it like it's the most evil place in the world. I... look, the alienage didn't exactly have a library."

"No, I understand. Just be wary of your words and actions."

"That I do know how to do. That was one thing that's been hammered into my head for years: Watch your words around humans." I sighed. "I _am_ interested in learning more about the world, though."

"There will not be any time or opportunity for that at Ostagar," Duncan warned, "but with luck, King Cailan's armies will be able to weather the darkspawn horde."

"You don't sound confident."

"I..." He paused. "The king is bold, confident, and charismatic..."

"I'm sensing a 'but' coming," I interjected.

"...yes. He is all those things, but he is also brash, headstrong, and too idealistic. I am concerned he will be more focused on claiming glory and inspiring tales than defeating the darkspawn."

Unconvinced, I asked, "But doesn't the king have generals for that?"

"Of course," Duncan answered. "He is advised by Teyrn Loghain, among others. But even the hero of the Battle of River Dane must defer to the king if pressed."

"King Cailan wouldn't overrule one of Ferelden's greatest heroes because of glory-hounding, would he? Expecially on a military matter?" I asked, somewhat shocked.

"I hope not," Duncan answered wearily. "I hope Cailan will heed the advice given to him. He's known the teyrn since birth. Maric and Loghain were as close as brothers."

My eyes still a bit wide with shock, I said, "Wow. This morning, I was concerned about being put into an arranged marriage. That seems like a very petty concern now."

Duncan laughed.

"Indeed. But we must remain confident. If we don't believe we can win, then we've already lost. Now, if there's nothing else you would like to talk about, I would prefer to focus on the road."

I gave an affirmative nod and fell silent.

* * *

9:39 Dragon

City of Amaranthine

"Why are you telling me this?" Cassandra asked.

"Character development," Mirevas snarked.

"I mean the question seriously: Why are you telling me all of this?"

"Honestly?" Mirevas asked, with a surprisingly serious voice. "I want this story told. I've heard too many stupid rumors and outright malicious lies and slander. You've asked me to tell you my whole story, and I will. Duncan was a good man. He was the first human to see me as a person first and an elf second. He... deserves to be remembered."

There were a few seconds of tense silence.

"...I'll continue."

* * *

9:30 Dragon

The Imperial Highway, west of Denerim

We continued for several more hours, until the sun was setting. When the sun was about to dip below the horizon and the sky was red, we finally stopped to set up camp.

"Here," Duncan told me, handing me a bundle of cloth and sticks. He turned away quickly, oblivious to my bewilderment. It was only a few minutes later that he noticed and addressed me.

"Are you all right?" he asked, somewhat concernedly.

"Yes. I'm fine. It's just... what is this?" I indicated the bundle.

"It's a tent. You do at least know what a tent is, surely?"

"What?" I asked incredulously. "_This_ is a tent? I've seen some. Mostly for people who are too old, sick, or crippled to work and don't have family to help them. Those were grim bits of tattered cloth set up on street corners and in alleys to provide a bit of protection when it rains. This... some people in the alienage would literally kill for something like this, and you think nothing of it."

"Now is not the time for this," Duncan replied tiredly. "We both need rest. You especially, after the day you've had. Just sleep."

The lethargy in my legs and aching in my arms forced me to agree. With my new knowledge, I haphazardly set up the tent, crawled wearily inside, and fell asleep the second my head touched down.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

The Imperial Highway, west of Denerim

The Next Morning

I woke early the next morning, when the sun had barely risen. I'm tempted to give you some cliché tale about how I thought at first the previous day had been a dream or nightmare, but the whole point of this is the truth being told.

I stood, stretched a bit, and grimaced at the soreness of my body. I knew how to fight at that point, but I had had almost no real practice until the day before. I glanced down at myself.

"Maker's breath!" I muttered. I was still wearing tattered "formal" wear, almost completely covered in a crusted red-brown layer of dried blood.

"Ugh!" I awkwardly began pulling my stiffened clothing off. When I finished, I touched my face to see if there was blood there too. When my fingers brushed the wound I had received the day before, I winced with pain and shame. What had he said?

_Take that scar as a reminder to mind your place, uppity knife-ear._

_A reminder?_ I thought. _Sure. I'll take it as a reminder that while fucking human nobles are many things, they are_ not_ invincible._

Pushing these thoughts away, I ducked out of the tent. Much like the smell of the previous day, I was not prepared for what I was about to feel.

I took a few steps out onto the field. The feeling of cool, soft grass against my bare feet after twenty years of never walking on anything but stone, packed dirt, and ankle-deep mud whenever it rained was indescribable. Added to that, I could see the beautiful pale blue of the early morning sky and grassy fields as far as my sight reached. The quiet accentuated the other beauty. It wasn't silence, but to a born-and-raised city-dweller, the faint ambient noise might as well have been. It lent the scene a serene, almost dreamlike quality.

_This is... hmm... Maybe being conscripted will mean more to me than "a way to escape punishment". I've never cared about seeing the world, but if it's there... might as well. This feels..._

A small smile crossed my face—the first genuine one since before the tumultuous events of the previous day.

_This feels right._

* * *

**AN**: Thanks to Pintsizedpsycho for the review!


	5. 4: TCBtSBtCBtS

**Chapter 4: The Calm Before the Storm Before the Calm Before the Storm**

9:39 Dragon

City of Amaranthine

"You really reacted like that to _nature_?" Cassandra asked incredulously.

"Yeah. I learned pretty quickly how to survive out there though—treachery and a year of vilification will do that to you," Mirevas replied.

"It just doesn't..."

"...seem possible that someone could have such a strong reaction to something so simple? I _had_ spent my entire life living in a city slum where all I'd ever heard about nature was stories and 'the Dalish live there'. The only time I'd ever even seen a _tree _was the vhenadahl."

"Hmph. I suppose."

"Now, I believe you wished to know about Ostagar?" he asked. "There was nothing of much import or significance in the intervening weeks...

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Outside the fortress of Ostagar

Several weeks later, we approached Ostagar fortress.

We were walking along a ruined path next to an enormous stone wall covered in moss. To the side, I could see a tower reaching high above.

As we walked along the path, we were approached by a man wearing ornate golden armor. His long blond hair, blue eyes, and thick stubble were presumably attractive, but I'm not exactly the best judge of how good-looking human men are. His facial features all seemed to be in the right general location, anyway.

"Ho there, Duncan!" the man greeted. "I received word that you would be bringing along a new Grey Warden recruit? An elf from the alienage in Denerim?"

Duncan nodded.

"This is he?" He indicated me.

Another nod.

The well-armored man faced me.

"My guards and advisors continuously warn me against visiting the alienage. What is it like?" the man asked politely.

I considered for a moment, then hesitantly asked, "I'm sorry, ser, but who are you? You never introduced yourself."

"Oh, where are my manners?" he wondered. "I suppose I thought you would recognize me. I am Cailan Theirin..."

My eyes widened involuntarily and my jaw dropped slightly open.

"...King of Ferelden."

I stared at him stupidly for several seconds.

"I-uh-if-uh... You're the king? I just..." I stammered. I collected myself, took a deep breath, and responded.

"It is... good to meet you, King Cailan. I am Mirevas Tabris. As for the alienage... well, there are certain events you should be made aware of."

"Oh?" Cailan asked. "What has happened?"

Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "The son of the arl of Denerim crashed my wedding, abducted eight women, murdered one, and raped my cousin. So I killed him."

Now it was the king's turn to look shocked.

"_What?!_"

Duncan cut in.

"We have much to talk about, King Cailan... most of which I would have put more tactfully. But first, we must focus on the darkspawn."

"You're right. But the darkspawn may not be as great of a threat as you believe," the king claimed. "We've already won three battles against the fiends, and we've seen nothing of an archdemon. I'm not even sure this is really a Blight."

"It is a Blight," Duncan insisted. "Of that much, I am sure."

"So you say..." Cailan responded dismissively. "I had hoped for a war like the tales of old: A noble king fighting alongside his armies and the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god... I'll make do with what I have, though.

"Now, I must go. If I don't return, I'm sure Loghain will be sending people to search for me."

He turned on his heel and began walking back toward the fortress, golden armor glinting in the sunlight. When he was outside hearing range, I turned and asked Duncan, "He's... confident... Are the chances of victory really so great?"

"I don't know," he sighed. He began to continue on the path, and I started following. "It is true that the darkspawn have been defeated in the battles the king's armies have fought against them so far, but the horde has been massing in the Wilds for one massive strike. By now, they likely outnumber us. The king is..." He searched for a word.

"He's naïve," I said simply.

"I would not have put it so bluntly, but yes. He puts too much stock in legends, and the Grey Wardens."

"How could he put too much stock in the Wardens?" I asked. "Aren't Wardens needed to defeat Blights?"

"We are to some extent," Duncan answered, "We do have special abilities against darkspawn, including the ability to sense them. Only we can defeat archdemons. But we don't exactly need to sense darkspawn when the horde is this large, and only one Warden is needed to defeat the archdemon. Beyond that, Wardens are simply powerful warriors. Cailan can't seem to understand that people become Wardens because they are skilled, not the other way around."

"He doesn't seem particularly world-wise..."

"No, perhaps not. But he has the advisement of Teyrn Loghain, and we must trust them. If there is nothing else, we should proceed with the Joining ritual as soon as possible."

"The Joining?"

"It is a ritual that must be performed to induct you into the Grey Wardens. There are a few components you must gather for it... but we have been on the road for weeks. Feel free to explore Ostagar, get something to eat. When you are ready, find a Grey Warden named Alistair. He will be guiding you and the other recruits. Then return to me."

By now, we were standing in front of a ramp flanked by two statues of spearmen, leading down to a long bridge dotted with yellow-and-orange banners and more half-ruined statues. Across the bridge, I could see the main ruin of Ostagar. It was breathtaking in its way. Its size was immense, with various walls, towers, and arches stretching as far as I could see. It also had an aura of faded radiance, as if saying "A thousand years ago, I was beautiful."

"Other recruits?" I asked, a little bit stunned by the scale.

"Ser Jory, a knight of Highever, and Daveth, a criminal I found in Denerim. You might be able to find them."

Duncan started crossing the bridge. I stayed where I was. Part of the conversation with Cailan had made me think.

_He's a good man, _I thought. _He looked right past my ears, even though he's the highest-ranking noble in Ferelden. But...__ he's ignorant to what alienage life is like. It sounds like he _wanted_ to see, but his "guards" and "advisors" stopped him. The guards, sure, it's a dangerous place. But the advisors? Why? Are they afraid he would try to help the elves?_

"Ugh..." I muttered disgustedly. "Nobles leave a bad taste in my mouth."

I shook my head, then followed after Duncan. When I had crossed the bridge and turned right, I saw magic firsthand for the first time. In a clearing partially obscured from view by pillars and a ruined wall, I could see a group of robed figures performing some kind of ritual. They were channeling white energy and their eyes looked glazed over. Pretty innocuous, considering all the rhetoric I'd heard from the Chantry about magic.

Standing at the entrance to the clearing was a pair of bucketheads—sorry, _templars_ in gleaming silver armor decorated with an emblem of the Sword of Mercy and wearing purple skirts. And the bucket helmets, of course. I will _never _understand templar fashion... I'm getting off topic again.

I knew that the people in the clearing were mages, and even with what little I knew, I could infer that the guards were templars. Still, I was curious. I approached one of the bucketheads. Before I came within five feet, he warned, "Stay back. The mages must not be interrupted. Their spirits are in the Fade."

Now that I knew what was going on, I was satisfied. I turned and walked parallel to the ruined wall. I passed a stewpot and saw a white-haired old woman in robes leaning against a tree. Across the path from her was a Chantry priest standing on a raised platform, giving a motivational speech. I have nothing negative to say about her, so I'll move on.

"Greetings," the robed woman said when my gaze lingered on her. "I suppose you are Duncan's recruit? Congratulations; he is not easily impressed. I am Wynne, a mage of the Circle summoned by King Cailan."

"Greetings. I am Mirevas."

"Good luck to you, and us all, on the battlefield."

"The king... is confident of our chances," I told her.

"You seem troubled. Are you all right?" she asked.

"It's just..." I sighed. "Less than a month ago, I was just another elf in the alienage. My biggest concern was thinking of creative-but-ultimately-doomed-to-failure schemes to get out of my arranged marriage. Now I'm about to join an ancient military order and stand beside the freaking _King of Ferelden_ against an army of monsters. It's a lot to get used to."

"Yes, it is. But you must. We must all stand together and do our best if we want to be able to defeat the darkspawn."

"I haven't even ever seen a darkspawn... Have you?" I wondered.

"I have faced a few," the mage replied. "Nothing resembling an army, but I have fought stragglers. Hmm... what do you know of darkspawn?"

I thought for a moment.

"The Chant says... Tevinter magisters tried to usurp the Maker's city, but their sin corrupted it, and they were cast back from the Fade as the first darkspawn. They look kind of like living corpses... and they spread disease. That's why it's called 'the Blight'."

"That is what the Chant of Light says. It may be true; it may not. It is something to think about at least. Now, I'm sure Duncan has better things for you to do."

Nodding, I turned and walked. I moved past a crowd of armored soldiers standing in front of the orating priest. I passed an open area and walked to near a fenced-in area from which I could hear barking.

"No... I really don't want to lose such a strong member of the breed..." I heard a man standing near it say under his breath.

"Excuse me?" I asked him, startling him out of his focus. "Are those mabari?" I continued, pointing toward the large dogs inside the fence.

"What? Yes, those are mabari. Surprised a Fereldan wouldn't recognize 'em," the man answered.

"I came from an alienage," I explained. "I'd heard about mabari, but never seen any. They look like amazing creatures. Aren't they supposed to be really intelligent?"

"Yes. 'Smart enough to talk, wise enough not to" is the saying. I'm worried about one, though. You're the new Warden, right? I could use some help."

"...Are you sure? I just told you, I've never even seen a mabari until right now."

"That's not the point," the man explained. "You're a Grey Warden, or will be, right? One of the dogs swallowed darkspawn blood, and Grey Wardens are immune to the taint. No one else could risk trying to muzzle him."

"I could give it a shot..." I relented. The sounds coming from the pen made me feel bad.

"Great! I would hate to have to put down such a strong dog. Go in; we'll know right away if he'll react harshly to you."

He handed me a muzzle. I carefully walked through the gate and faced the sick mabari. It was whining pitifully but its face still made it look like it was smiling, in a dog-like sort of way. As I approached, it backed down, allowing me to muzzle it.

"Thank you!" the kennel master told me as soon as I came back out. "Now I can treat it... Matter of fact, are you heading into the Wilds?"

"I wasn't planning on it, but anything is possible, I suppose. Why do you ask?"

"There's an herb in the Wilds that would help improve his chances. If you do end up in the Wilds, keep an eye out for a white flower with a blood-red center. I don't know if he'll make it without the herb."

"Well, I don't know if I'll even be in the Wilds," I warned. "But I'll keep an eye out if I am."

"Thank you! I'll begin treatment in the meantime."

Smiling a bit at the man's enthusiasm, I explored the camp a bit further. I happened upon a somewhat lecherous man unsubtly asking a soldier for sex. When she silently refused and walked away, I approached him.

"Ah. You aren't what I expected," the man commented when he saw me.

"Not what you expected?" I asked,.

"From one of the other Grey Warden recruits. I wasn't expecting an elf."

My eyes narrowed.

"I didn't mean nothing by it!" he quickly explained. "Me and ser knight were just wondering. I didn't expect an elf."

"Hmm... So you're Daveth, then?" I asked, still a bit annoyed.

"I am indeed. It's good you're here. I was thinking this ritual was just for our benefit."

"I'm sure this ritual is... something important. I don't suppose you know anything about it I don't?" I questioned.

"As a matter of fact, I was sneaking around camp last night, and I happened to listen in to a couple of Grey Wardens talking. I think we're going to be sent into the Wilds!"

"The Wilds," I said flatly. "They're going to send us—three recruits and whoever this Alistair is—into the Wilds, which people say is filled with barbarians and witches. And... you know... the bulk of the darkspawn horde."

"That's what they said!" Daveth protested.

"I just don't think it's very likely."

"Well, that's what I heard. I know that the Wilds are bad, too. I grew up nearby, and have been in there a few times."

"I don't think they'd just send us into danger without a good reason," I explained.

"What, danger itself isn't a reason? Unless you're the first Grey Warden weaver or something, we're supposed to be able to fight."

I laughed humorlessly.

"Believe me," I responded. "I can fight. I was recruited after killing three nobleman and about a dozen guards."

After about ten seconds of shocked silence, Daveth muttered, "Beats my story..." then, louder, "I'm going to return to Duncan, so if you want to talk more..." He began walking away.

_That's the kind of person the Wardens look for?_ I wondered. _Wait. I guess you're not exactly an upstanding citizen either._ Shrugging, I moved on.

A bit farther, I saw a sign labeled "Quartermaster". As I walked into a small area containing a man dressed in normal clothing, an anvil, and a few chests, I was yelled at.

"You! Elf!" the man shouted. "Why are you dressed so ridiculously, and why don't you have my armor?"

"I am here to become a Grey Warden, to both questions," I answered icily. "Everyone _else_ seemed to know already."

The man quickly backtracked verbally.

"I—sorry, there are so many elves running around—I assumed-"

"You assumed I was a servant," I replied bluntly. "Even now, you're only apologizing out of fear. And you only care that you've offended _me_. Maybe you should treat your servants better."

"I-yes, of course, ser. Do you need some supplies?"

Smiling in spite of myself at a human calling me "ser", I replied, "Ah, yes. I have a few weapons that I've... _salvaged._ I'd like to contribute them to the war effort."

"Thank you, ser."

When that business was sorted out, I continued exploring the camp. I encountered a group of soldiers standing near or sitting on a bench, with a priest near them offering blessings.

"Soldiers of Highever, walk in the Maker's sight" is all I remember her saying.

When I went up to her, she gave an almost-convincing smile and asked if I wanted to receive the Maker's blessing. I responded... less than tactfully.

"What, you're not afraid of catching some knife-ear disease or something?" I asked hostilely.

This was enough to shock her.

"What?" she asked, maintaining a veneer of civility.

"You heard me."

"The Maker's blessings extend to all who will receive Him. The Chant says that 'all who walk in the sight of the Maker are one'."

"The Chant says many things that the Chantry disagrees with. If that were true, you wouldn't have made us second-class citizens _and_ denied us access to the priesthood."

Cutting off her rebuttal, I angrily told her, "You want to talk about the Chant? Here's a passage for you: 'A great hymn rose over Valarian Fields gladly proclaiming:/Those who had been slaves were now free.'" I let out a bitter chuckle.

"Oh, wait. Andraste's liberation of the elves from slavery never happened, and it's heretical to 'claim' that Shartan _existed_."

Realizing she wasn't going to win here, the priest simply said, "Begone! I'll not discuss politics here."

Smirking, I turned from her. One of the knights was staring at me.

"Quite the show, wasn't it?" I asked him.

"I... suppose it was. You would be the third Warden recruit, then?" he asked.

"I am, and that would make you Ser Jory?"

"Indeed. Jory, knight of Redcliffe. I served under Arl Eamon. I wasn't expecting an-"

"An elf? Daveth said as much."

"...Yes. An elf. I meant no offense by it. It's just that all of the Wardens in the valley are human. There _are_ some places where elves are forbidden from joining the military."

Sighing, I muttered, "Whatever..."

"I am excited to be joining the Wardens, though I am also somewhat worried about this 'Joining' ritual. Do you know anything of it?" Jory asked.

"We might be going into the Wilds, if Daveth can be believed," I told him.

"Hmm... I was not expecting there to be more tests after being recruited... Regardless, I should return to Duncan."

As he walked away, I walked too, in a different direction. A few minutes later, _somehow_ (I don't remember what I said or did), I ended up getting an audience with Teyrn Loghain. This was a day before his infamous betrayal, so he was still just "Ferelden's greatest hero in an age" to me and most everyone. I was a little... hero-worshippy.

"Ah," he said, surveying me, "You must be Duncan's newest recruit."

I nodded wordlessly.

"The king spoke highly of you. He has a... fascination with the Wardens. Are you aware his father allowed your order to return to Ferelden?"

"I didn't hear much about the Wardens at all growing up. I am from an alienage," I responded.

"Maric had deep respect for the Wardens, but _he _would have understood that battles are won by men, not stories..." Loghain sighed. "That is an argument I won't repeat here. You seem to have some experience, though. You don't look as green as most of our soldiers."

Choosing my words carefully, I told him, "I have been trained all my life, but my... _practical experience_ is somewhat limited."

"Hm. I don't suppose you will be riding with your fellows, then?"

"Perhaps. There are things I must do first. If I must, I will."

"A commendable attitude. Now, I must return to my duties. If you're the praying sort, pray that Cailan is receptive to advice," Loghain advised.

"What if he isn't?"

"Then simply pray," he sighed. He turned back and returned to his tent.

This one you'll be interested in, Seeker. A few minutes later, I found a group of soldiers standing together. I noticed it because there were fewer standing together than in most groups. There was also a suspicious man standing with them. When I say "suspicious", I don't mean "arousing suspicion", but rather "possessing suspicion". He was constantly scanning the area around him, and the eye movements seemed unconscious. I could see his eyes focus on me as I approached. Not surprising—I was an armed and armored elf in an area of human soldiers and elven servants.

"Is something wrong?" I asked the man.

"What?" he asked distrustfully. "Why do you ask?"

"You're constantly looking around... for threats, I would assume? You just seem like you're kind of paranoid."

"I'm just used to keeping an eye out on my sisters' behalf. But they aren't here right now," the man explained furtively.

"Your sisters? Why?" I wondered.

"None of your business!" he snapped. Calming down a bit, he amended, "Sorry, I didn't mean to be so short. I'm just on edge right now, with the battle approaching."

"I understand. I'm Mirevas, a Grey Warden recruit. And you are?"

"My name is Carver. Carver Hawke," he answered.

"Nice to meet you, Carver. I was wondering why the group you're with is so small."

"Oh? I'm from Lothering, a small village north of here. We didn't have many soldiers to send down, so... smaller group."

"Understood. I was just wondering about that. Thanks," I told him.

* * *

9:39 Dragon

City of Amranthine

"I can see I was right about you being interested," Mirevas smirked.

"You met the Champion's brother? Did he..."

"You're going to ask if he seemed like the sort to spread dangerous sedition against the Chantry, or whatever shit you're claiming about Hawke and her friends and family now. Well, no. He seemed like a scared kid, away from the sisters he felt responsible for protecting for the first time and about to be thrown into a war."

Cassandra just gave him a death glare.

"Continue."

"Fine, fine..." he smirked, always loving the bits of annoyance he could inflict.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Ostagar

I think that's the end of the non-plot-relevant conversations—and yes, I will continue to use literary terminology—so it's time to meet Alistair.

He was talking to a mage, delivering a message from the Revered Mother, when I first saw him. The mage was annoyed, so Alistair used the wonderful gifts of the Maker that are sarcasm and sass. I'll pick up right near the end.

"And here I thought we were getting along so well," Alistair said sarcastically. "I was even going to name one of my children after you—the grumpy one."

"Enough!" the mage shouted. Then, softer, he muttered, "I will talk to the woman if I must." As he walked past me, he told me to "Get out of my way, fool!"

"One of the good things about the Blight is the way it brings people together," Alistair joked.

"Indeed," I responded, "the one thing mages, templars, humans, elves, commoners, and kings can agree on is: Darkspawn are _assholes_."

He laughed.

"I'm going to like you... Wait, who are you? I don't suppose you're another mage?"

"Don't worry. Unless there's such thing as a poverty mage, you have nothing to worry about."

With another laugh, he replied, "Good. Less chance of being yelled at. Wait... you're Duncan's newest recruit, the elf from Denerim. Sorry, I should have recognized you."

"...You haven't ever seen me before."

"Yes, but Duncan sent word, and he spoke highly of you. I am Alistair, and as junior member of the Wardens, I'll be accompanying you in your Joining preparation."

"Pleased to meet you," I responded. "My name is Mirevas."

"Oh, right. _That_ was the name. Well, if we'll be working together, have you ever encountered darkspawn before?"

"Apart from a few corpses the soldiers were studying, no," I answered.

"Well, actually facing one... be prepared. Now, we should return to Duncan, unless you have any more questions?" he asked.

"A few," I admitted. "What was that about?"

"With the mage?" Alistair asked. "Nothing serious. The Chantry doesn't like the king asking for the mages' assistance fighting the darkspawn, so the revered mother sent me basically to make him feel unwelcome. It's meant as an insult, you see, because I was once a templar. Well, templar-in-training."

"A mage-hunter? That would be insulting."

"They preferred 'mage-protector, unless the mage is any risk at all, in which case, yes, mage-hunter', if I recall correctly," Alistair joked.

"Well, they can't blame people for condensing..."

"I suppose not," he laughed. "Now, if there's nothing else, we should return to Duncan. Lead on!"

Smirking, I led him back to Duncan's fire, where Ser Jory and Daveth had been waiting.

"We can begin," Duncan began, "if you are quite finished inciting mages, Alistair?"

"The Revered Mother ambushed me," he weakly justified. "She wields guilt like a weapon."

"I doubt she asked you to rile up the mage. We cannot afford to antagonize any of our allies, not even one person."

"Fine," Alistair sighed.

"Good," Duncan said in a somewhat unconvinced voice. He turned to Daveth, Jory, and I.

"You must venture into the Korcari Wilds. I have two tasks for you. First, you must collect one vial of darkspawn blood for each recruit, for the Joining itself. Second, you must search for an abandoned Grey Warden archive from ages ago. We thought it long-abandoned, but I have learned that ancient scrolls have been preserved magically. Alistair, I want you to retrieve them."

"Is that also part of the Joining?" I asked.

"No, but it is important. These scrolls are ancient treaties pledging support to the Grey Wardens during Blights. With four ages passing since the last Blight, we cannot count on people remembering their commitments."

"Understood," I answered. "Go into the Wilds, find three vials of blood, find these scrolls."

"Good," Duncan said. "Alistair, watch over your charges."

"I will."

"Maker guide your path."

The group of us made our way to the gate leading to the Wilds. We briefly spoke with a guard, then crossed into the Wilds.

The Wilds had a thick scent of death pervading it. It smelled like nature crossed with rotting flesh—the scent of the darkspawn taint, that I would soon become _very_ familiar with. This was paralleled in the colors—trees that were a mixture of dull brownish-green and deep black. The air was thick and wet, and it was eerily quiet, with only faint sounds of creatures walking and skittering across the ground. I paled.

_This will be the true test of my combat abilities,_ I thought.

* * *

**AN**: Thanks as always to Pintsizedpsycho for the review!


	6. 5: TSBtCBtS, Pt 1

**Chapter 5: The Storm Before the Calm Before the Storm, Part 1**

9:30 Dragon

The edge of the Korcari Wilds

Before advancing, I surveyed the nearby landscape. To the right, there was a hill ten or fifteen feet high, to the left a large group of scraggly bushes and a quite big... lake? I'm not sure of the exact right word, but it was large enough that the other shore was obscured by mist. We walked ahead to a lower area dotted with trees and one pond. As we moved forward, we were set upon by a pack of wolves.

It began with a single wolf jumping out of the shadows and howling loudly to alert the others. When I heard the sound of paws running toward us, I quickly stabbed the wolf in either flank with my blades, then turned to face the sound. The three men accompanying me stood ready as well.

A group of... six or seven, if I recall correctly... wolves ran and leaped at us. I dodged, as I still didn't have heavy armor; so did Daveth. Alistair raised his shield, and a wolf smashed into it mid-jump and crumpled to the ground. Jory, clearly more in his element in combat, swung his greatsword and nearly cleaved a wolf in two before it hit him. Another lunge almost managed to do damage to me, but I twisted just enough that the fangs didn't manage to pierce my leather armor. When it struck again, I ducked and slashed its throat from below.

Meanwhile, Alistair stabbed the wolf that he had downed and turned his attention to another, delivering a mighty shield bash to its skull and felling it while it was dazed. In the corner of my eye, I saw Daveth kill the last with a flurry of dagger strikes.

Just as I breathed a sigh of relief, I heard another group approaching.

"Void!" I swore under my breath.

It was a smaller group this time, only three. One leaped at me, and though I tried to dodge, it hit me with a hard strike from its paw, knocking me to the ground. Before it could start biting, I was saved by a massive blow to it from Jory's greatsword. As I rose to my feet, gasping, I saw the fresh corpses of the other two wolves of the group.

"I..." I took a moment to catch my breath. "I was _not_ expecting that. Witches, barbarians, darkspawn, yes... I guess I just forgot there would be animals too."

"Yes..." Alistair remarked. "I don't think wolves are normally this hostile. Maybe something to do with the Blight."

Just past the wolves, we encountered several bloodied human corpses, including a man in Chantry robes, floating in a lake. Upon closer examination, I found a letter on the man's body from his father, Rigby. It talked of a stash in the Wilds, which I later found. That's all there really is to say about it.

A bit further, near two broken-down wagons, we encountered a soldier, bloodied and near-death, but alive.

"Who... Grey... Wardens?" he asked stiltedly, trying unsuccessfully to pull himself out of a prone position.

"Well. Not half as dead as he looks," Alistair remarked.

"I... was a... scout We... were attacked... by darkspawn. Help... have to... get back to camp," he pleaded.

"Do we have bandages?" I inquired.

"I have some in my pack," Alistair answered. He looked down and bandaged the worst of the soldier's wounds. The soldier clawed his way to his feet and began staggering toward camp.

"An entire patrol of scouts, wiped out nearly to the last man by darkspawn?" Jory asked panickedly.

"Don't worry," Alistair assured. "We won't run into the bulk of the horde anytime soon. There'll just be stragglers."

"How do you know? There's an _army_ in these forests. I'm no coward-"

"If you have to insist you're not a coward," I interrupted, "then you probably are."

"I don't want to die. Is that so wrong? You haven't seen me run yet, have you?"

"Most people aren't exactly excited to see darkspawn up close, you know," Alistair commented.

"I didn't say I was. I was scared just seeing the corpses in camp. But this is what Grey Wardens do, right? Fight darkspawn?"

"True," Alistair admitted. To Jory, he informed, "Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn. You can be sure they won't take us by surprise."

Jory somewhat reassured, we continued on the path. As we walked parallel to a ruined wall, I spotted the white-and-blood-red flower the kennel master had asked me to find. I picked a few, earning me some strange looks from my companions, and stowed them. That was also when I first saw darkspawn.

We were quite a distance away, and protected from view by a fallen tree, so they couldn't see us. "Walking corpse" really doesn't do them justice. Their skin was a wrinkled greyish-brown stained with blood black and red. Their faces had flattened noses, lipless mouths filled with sharp teeth, and eyes with just enough intelligence to provoke fear. The amount of red or brown bloodstains on their armor worried me—the very metal was stained red. Worst of all...

"Oh, no," I muttered.

We had immediate cover, but there was an open area between us and them. And some of them had bows. And they had the high ground, situated on a slope.

Thinking quickly, I whispered to Alistair, "Are you any good with that shield?" To his vaguely affirmative head movement, I responded, "Well, I had an idea. You charge them with your shield out, drawing the archers' attention. Then, when they're distracted, the three of us can also advance."

Alistair considered for a moment, then nodded. He made a questioning gesture toward the 'spawn, to which I signaled my assent.

With a taunting battle cry, Alistair charged from cover, shield raised. Two hurlocks, wielding swords and those weird spiky shields, moved toward him, and three genlock archers began firing. He assumed a defensive stance, using his sword to parry and his shield to block and deflect arrows.

Jory ran past him, using his greatsword to cleanly sever one of the hurlocks' heads in the process. With the genlocks distracted, Daveth and I were able to go up around the hill and end up behind them. Daveth dispatched one with a quick series of backstabs, I one by stabbing it through the chest with my sword, reaching around with my left hand, and slitting its throat. That attracted the last one's attention, but as it futilely tried to use a bow effectively at close range, I kicked it down and stabbed in the heart. Do darkspawn have hearts? Well, the center of the chest, anyway.

Seeing the genlocks were dealt with, Alistair slashed the last hurlock in the stomach, knocked it to the ground with a shield bash, and finished it off.

As we walked back together, I muttered, "Ugh...", looking at all the black ichor-like blood covering my armor.

"You have the vials, right?" I asked Alistair.

"What? Oh, right, for the blood. Here." He handed us each a small glass bottle.

Suppressing a gag, I went up to one of the corpses and scooped up some blood.

When we moved further, we saw a tree pushed to create a connection between two hills, with three human corpses hanging from it by their necks. Darkspawn are pretty fucked up.

As we rounded the second hill, we encountered a small group of darkspawn fighting a pack of wolves. We waited for one side to fall (the wolves) then picked off the survivors. On a platform near them, we found another corpse in Chantry robes. This was Rigby, the previous man's father. It contained a letter asking that his lockbox be found and taken to his wife Jetta in Redcliffe. I did, I did, and it still wasn't really worth mentioning.

We continued through the Wilds, killed more 'spawn and a few wolves, until eventually we came upon a ruined pair of walls on either side of a bridge. This fight was memorable because it was the first time I ever encountered an emissary.

Have you ever fought a darkspawn mage, Seeker? I don't recommend it. I don't even know how they work (my best guess is that they power spells with their tainted blood), but they are scarily effective with entropic and elemental magic. I had never even seen a combat spell before, so when I was hit by a blast of elemental fire, I quite reasonably jumped into a nearby lake.

Giving me a look that suggested mild annoyance, but not surprise, Alistair charged forward, slashing at the emissary repeatedly. His blows seemed to weaken the "mage" disproportionately. By the time I pulled myself from the muck, it was dead.

"That's a pretty reasonable first-time reaction to hostile magic," Alistair admitted.

"Yeah, yeah..." I muttered.

Further along the path, led into by a route flanked by broken pillars, we found the ruin we were looking for. It was guarded by a relatively large group of darkspawn, but apart from the alpha we encountered for the first time, they were easily dispatched.

"It should be... Oh." Alistair had been scanning the area. He pointed at a chest before realizing it was broken open.

"That's not good..." he muttered. As he took a closer look, a woman approached from down a ramp. My first impression of her was _That woman is _very_ impractically dressed._

Her upper body was covered (barely) by what amounted to a purple scarf wrapped around it, with a black sleeve unconnected to the scarf-thing. She was wearing two different necklaces and a black skirt with strips hanging from it. She was quite attractive, admittedly, but she had a cold, aloof edge to her that turned me off. That and the staff on her back discouraged any ogling. I was still quite scared of mages.

"Well, well. What have we here?" she asked. "A scavenger, poking amidst a corpse whose bones are long-since cleaned? Or merely an intruder in these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey? Hmm? What say you?"

I took a moment to realize she was addressing me.

"I am a Grey Warden. We came to recover artifacts from this tower."

"Tower?" she questioned condescendingly. "'Tis a tower no longer. The Wilds have long since reclaimed it. And yet you disturb ashes that have remained untouched for so long. Why?"

"Don't answer," Alistair warned. "If there's one Wilder, there may be others-"

"Oh?" the woman questioned hostilely. "You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?"

"Yes, swooping is bad..."

"She's a Witch of the Wilds!" Daveth insisted. "I've heard stories-"

"You do seem the sort to believe in children's stories," the woman interrupted. Indicating me, she said, "You there! Elves are more than frightened children. Tell me your name, and I shall tell you mine."

"I am Mirevas."

"And I Morrigan. And your purpose here? To take something from those chests? Something that is here no longer?"

"Here no longer?" Alistair accused. "You stole them, didn't you?"

"How does one steal from ages-dead men?"

"Quite easily, apparently," Alistair snarked. "I suggest you return those documents immediately. They are Grey Warden property."

"I could not, even if I desired to. 'Twas not I who removed them."

"Then who?" I cut in.

"'Twas my mother, in fact."

"Can you take us to _her_, then?" I asked.

"Sensibility, at long last! I like you."

"Careful," Alistair warned. "First it's 'I like you', then next thing you know, _zap!_, you're a frog."

I shot Alistair a sidelong glare, then refocused on Morrigan.

"Take us to her."

* * *

9:39 Dragon

City of Amaranthine

"You have one of those expressions on your face," Mirevas commented.

"I was just thinking," Cassandra commented.

"Oh? On what topic was your illustrious mind thinking?"

"Rumors, mostly. Many believed that you and the witch were... romantically involved."

"There are quite a few things that 'many believe'. I once heard a tale that I had 'bedded a lady pirate and three greased nugs.' If you believed all the stories people tell of me, then I've slept with about half of Ferelden's female population and a good chunk of the men, too. The real number is... slightly more modest."

Cassandra put up her hand, saying, "No. I'm really not interested-"

"Two."

"What?" she asked, shocked.

"Now, now, Seeker, what happened to 'I'm really not interested'?" He said the last part in a passable imitation of Cassandra's accent.

"I'm... not..." she said, with a decent impersonation of honesty.

"Yeah, you are," he laughed. "But yes. Two. And one of them... well, it wasn't for pleasure. You'll find out eventually."

"Hmm..." Cassandra grumbled. "You never addressed my original comment."

"What? Oh. No, Morrigan and I were _definitely _not romantically involved."

"Then just move on," she snapped.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

The Korcari Wilds

Morrigan led through the Wilds to her and her mother's hut. Her mother, to all appearances, was an ordinary, if quite old, woman.

"Mother, I bring before you four Grey Wardens who-"

"I see them, girl," the woman snapped. "As I expected."

"You expected us?" Alistair scoffed. "I find _that _hard to believe."

"You are not required to believe," she told him. "Shut one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide... Either way, one's a fool."

"She's a Witch-" Daveth blurted out.

"Quiet!" Jory interrupted. "If she's a witch, do you _want_ to make her mad?"

"There's a smart lad," the woman commented. "Irrelevant to the larger scheme of things, but _I_ do not decide." She turned to me.

"What of you?" she asked. "Does your elven mind give you a different perspective? What do _you_ believe?"

Rolling my eyes, I replied, "That you have the treaties we need."

"They did not come for your wild tales, mother..." Morrigan told her.

"No." She retrieved the treaties and gave them to us. "Before you begin barking," she continued, "I have protected these since your precious seal wore off. Take them to your Grey Wardens and warn them that this Blight's threat is greater than they realize."

"How do you know that?"

"Do I?" she asked. "Perhaps I am simply an old madwoman with a penchant for moldy scrolls." She began cackling.

"Don't mind me. You have what you came for!"

She told Morrigan to guide us back to the camp at Ostagar, and we returned.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Ostagar

Early morning

The camp at night was peaceful, but eerie. Flickering flames dotted the area. There was a somber atmosphere pervading it.

Before I returned to Duncan, I stopped by the kennel master. He was ecstatic that I brought him the flower he needed. He told me to return after the battle to see if they could imprint the dog I saved on me.

After that, we returned to Duncan by his fire and informed him of our success.

"Good," he responded. "I've had the Circle mages preparing. With this blood, we can begin the Joining ritual immediately."

I nodded affirmatively.

"I will not lie. Wardens pay a heavy price to become as we are," Duncan warned. "Fate may require that payment now, instead of later."

"Well, there's no backing down now," I told him.

"Indeed," Duncan agreed. "Alistair, take them to the old temple."

* * *

9:30 Dragon

The old temple, whatever that is

Jory, predictably, was worried again.

"I like this Joining less and less the more I hear of it. It could _kill_ us? Have I not earned my place?"

"Jory!" I snapped. "You passed the point of no return a long time ago. Get used to it."

He sighed.

"It's just... I have a wife back in Highever, with a child on the way. I was prepared to die fighting the darkspawn, but this...? Could they really just sacrifice us?"

"Stopping the darkspawn is more important than our lives," Daveth insisted.

"I..."

"Maybe you'll die, or I'll die. Maybe we'll _all_ die. If the darkspawn aren't stopped, then we're all dead anyway."

At this point, Duncan and Alistair approached, and we began the Joining. I can't give you any details, because it's a closely-held Warden secret. I can share the words spoken prior to the Joining, however, because they are incredible:

"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day, we shall join you," Alistair intoned, bowing his head.

Then the Joining began for real. I can't tell you anything about the ritual itself, but I can tell you that Daveth was killed by the ritual and Jory was too scared to go through with it, stupidly drew his sword, and was killed by Duncan. I, the only survivor, successfully was Joined and became a Grey Warden. After the ritual, I collapsed in pain and was wracked by horrible nightmares for a long time.

When I awakened, I saw Duncan and Alistair standing above me. We had a short conversation I can't talk about, and I was invited to join the king at his strategy session. Why, I didn't know, but I went when I had recovered.

The _real_ battle was about to begin.

* * *

**AN**: Thanks as always to Pintsizedpsycho for the review!


	7. 6: TSBtCBtS, Pt 2

**Chapter 6: The Storm Before the Calm Before the Storm, Part 2**

9:30 Dragon

Ostagar, early morning

When I had sufficiently recovered, I followed after Duncan to the strategy table, where Cailan and Loghain were standing, along with a Chantry priest—a Revered Mother, I believe—and a mage. The mage was named Uldred—he'll be important later.

Cailan and Loghain were having a... _spirited discussion._

"My decision is final!" Cailan insisted. "I will stand by the Grey Wardens in this fight."

"The darkspawn are too dangerous for you to play hero on the front lines," Loghain retorted.

"Oh? If you are not confident in our chances of winning, perhaps we should allow the Orlesian troops to join us, after all."

Loghain glared angrily at Cailan.

"_Our _chances of victory and _your _chances of survival are two different things," he growled. "I must again protest this foolish idea you have that we need _Orlesians_ to defend ourselves."

"It is not a 'foolish idea', and you will remember who is _king._ Our problems with Orlais are a thing of the past-"

"A thing of the past?" Loghain repeated. "Maric and I only drove the bastards out thirty years ago. It's fortunate he did not live to see his son ready to hand Ferelden right back to them!"

"Then we'll have to make do with what we have now, won't we?" Cailan turned to Duncan and asked, "Are your troops ready for battle?"

"They are, your Majesty."

He then turned to me.

"This is the recruit I met earlier? I understand congratulations are in order."

"I... suppose, your Majesty," I replied hesitantly.

"Good. Every Grey Warden is needed, now more than ever."

Sending Cailan an annoyed glare, Loghain commented, "Your fascination with legends will be your undoing. We must attend to _reality_."

"Fine. Speak your strategy."

"Your men, along with the Wardens, will engage the horde. Then the signal will be given to light the beacon, telling my men to charge from cover."

"Flanking the darkspawn." Cailan pointed at the map laid out on the table. "The beacon is here, yes? The Tower of Ishal? Who is going to light the signal?"

"I have a few men stationed there. It's a safe job, and simple, but indispensable."

"Then we should use our best. Send Alistair and the new Warden to ensure success."

Unsure whether I felt disappointed or relieved, I asked, "I won't be fighting in the battle?"

"Lighting the beacon is vital. The teyrn's forces need the signal to charge," Duncan told me.

I nodded.

"Are you sure it's wise to trust these Wardens with so much?" Loghain asked Cailan.

"Enough with your conspiracy theories. The Grey Wardens battle the Blight. They don't have any ulterior motives."

The mage cut in, "All of this is unnecessary! The Circle could-"

"We will _not_ trust any lives to your spells, _mage_," the Revered Mother interrupted.

Even then, when I was still distrustful of magic, the priest's magophobia disturbed me. I didn't trust magic, but I knew it was powerful. So potentially letting people die who could have been saved just because out of fear of magic seemed wrong. It didn't help that she said "mage" in a tone I was used to hearing the words "elf" and "knife-ear" said in.

"_Enough!_" Loghain snapped. "This plan will work."

"Your Majesty, you should consider the possibility of the archdemon appearing," Duncan pointed out.

"We have heard nothing of dragons in the Wilds," Loghain argued.

"That is what _your_ men are for, is it not?" Cailan pointed out dismissively.

"...Yes, your Majesty."

"Good. I cannot wait for that moment. The king and the Grey Wardens, standing together against the forces of evil."

"Yes," Loghain commented drily. "Truly a glorious moment for all of us."

I had a strange feeling about all of this, as though there was something they were forgetting in their planning. I pushed the feeling to the back of my head and refocused myself.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Ostagar, early morning

It was as though the Maker Himself had created an appropriate atmosphere for the prelude to a battle. As dawn slowly approached, the black sky flashed occasionally with lightning. Thunder was almost the only sound that could be heard breaking up the somber near-silence of the camp.

A few minutes later, I reunited with Alistair and we met up with Duncan. I had briefed him on the job we had to do on the way.

"I won't be fighting in the battle?" Alistair asked disappointedly.

"This job is important," Duncan insisted. "Without the beacon, the teyrn won't know when to lead his men in their charge."

"So, what, he just needs two Wardens off up in a tower, just in case?"

"Alistair... This is important. The king requested you two personally."

"Fine," he sighed. "But just so you know, if the king asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line."

"Noted."

"How much time will we have?" I asked.

"Once the battle begins, less than an hour. Move quickly."

"I understand."

"Then I must rejoin the king's men. Remember that you are both Grey Wardens. I expect you to be worthy of that title."

"Duncan... Maker watch over you."

"May He watch over all of us."

At this, Duncan began walking away. Alistair and I moved toward the bridge leading to the Tower of Ishal.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Ostagar fortress, just outside the Korcari Wilds

I don't have absolute certainty of these events, as I only saw them from far above, and getting survivors to open up to me is difficult. From what I could see, the King stood above his soldiers with Duncan. The army was vast. As I watched, a veritable ocean of darkspawn swarmed out of the forest toward the defenders. Cailan ordered a volley of fire arrows from the archers, which seemed fairly successful at killing darkspawn. Then, for reasons that I didn't understand and still don't, he ordered the mabari forward to assault the horde. This was also effective, but there was space between the two armies to allow at least one or two more volleys of highly damaging fire arrows. Then, with a battle cry of "For Ferelden!" that I could just barely hear from my position, Cailan led his army in a charge against the darkspawn. Where the two armies clashed formed a shifting, chaotic line that became increasingly stained red and black.

At this point, we had reached the bridge leading to the Tower. While I watched the beginning of the battle, I saw darkspawn siege weapons hurling flaming boulders toward the fortress. A few came dangerously close to the bridge, but it remained intact.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Ostagar fortress, bridge leading to the Tower of Ishal

"Come on!" Alistair pointed forward. "We need to get to the tower, to alert the teyrn!"

Trusting (and hoping) that it would all turn out for the best, I followed him, running across the bridge. We barely avoided a few projectile impacts, but made it across relatively unscathed.

As we approached the tower, which I recognized as the tower I had seen the previous day as I first entered Ostagar, a pair of people hurried towards us. They were a crossbowman and a Circle mage, both fleeing the tower.

When they saw us, they desperately explained that darkspawn had come up from the tunnels below the tower, and most of the men stationed there were dead.

"Then we need to fight our way through the tower and light the beacon ourselves!" Alistair told them.

The two agreed, and we continued toward the tower.

We ducked under an arch only to see two human soldiers being finished off by a group of darkspawn. The group (two hurlocks, two genlocks, and three genlock archers partially hidden in bushes) engaged us then.

The soldier took out one of the archers with a well-placed bolt to the chest. The mage sent a ball of electricity at another, frying it with a sizzling sound. Alistair charged at the last, knocking it to the ground and disarming it with one shield strike. In the meantime, I engaged a hurlock wielding a mace. It was slow and easy to avoid, so I was able to duck in and dispatch it with a flurry of strikes, assisted by a coat of magical fire the mage had applied to my blades. While I was distracted, though, a genlock with an axe got in a strike, cutting through my weak leather armor. The cut was not dangerously deep, but it caused a lot of pain. Screaming, I drove my blade deep into the beast's midsection and pulled it to the flank, releasing a shower of foul-smelling black entrails. I saw Alistair finish off the archer he had disabled in the corner of my eye, and another hurlock fell to a burst of flame from the mage's hands. I glared at the last genlock with furious anger.

As a look of dull realization flashed in its eyes, I stomped toward it and decapitated it with a scissor motion from my blades.

A little bit further, in a clearing containing several human corpses, we actually managed to save a soldier's life, at least temporarily. He was the last survivor of his group and would have died had we not dispatched the small band of darkspawn footmen.

Immediately past that, at the top of a ramp, we faced off against three genlocks and a hurlock alpha. The genlocks were easily defeated, but the alpha was harder to kill. We ended up dealing with it by having the Circle mage use a skilled blast of electricity to fry the 'spawn in its own metal armor.

After we had finally taken down the alpha, we were right in front of the tower. Though I was a bit nervous about the amount of darkspawn that would likely be in it, we went right in, hurrying.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Ostagar, the Tower of Ishal

The tower was dimly lit, and I could hear the guttural, animalistic noises of darkspawn further in. As we quietly walked through the hall to the central chamber of the first floor, the sounds intensified. When I saw the central chamber, I had to suppress a gasp.

It had been transformed into a warzone. Spiky barricades had been constructed strategically and the smells of fire and the taint hung over the room. Flaming wooden barriers directed us to a chokepoint. As I ran through, I accidentally pulled a tripwire, unleashing a pool of slippery grease on the floor. I was barely able to scrabble past it before a genlock emissary lit it ablaze with a fireball. The crossbowman and Alistair were able to make it through unscathed, though the mage's robes were partially set on fire. He quickly stifled the flames with a spray of frost.

The room was _very_ defensible. Five hurlock archers stood around a mostly empty circular room with an emissary providing support. Alistair had his shield to protect him as he charged the emissary, and the two men joining us were both fighting at range with crossbow bolts and blasts of elemental energy. I was left as the only relatively unprotected melee combatant.

Lamenting, not for the first time, my decision to focus on swordplay over agility, I waited for a moment of distraction and moved to help Alistair engage the emissary. The emissary was strong, but Alistair seemed very comfortable fighting it. Its magic seemed to weaken with each strike, and I noticed that when Alistair blocked magical attacks, they seemed to reflect toward the ground instead of spilling over the edges. I made a mental note to ask about both things.

Regardless, soon the archers had been dealt with by our ranged combatants and the emissary fell to a storm of bolts, slashes, and, well... storm.

Those darkspawn dealt with, the group continued. There was another notable fight on that floor. When we investigated a hallway, we accidentally alerted two rooms of 'spawn—about eight or ten. I remember it well because we managed to herd the whole group into a tight area, where the mage burned them all with one cone of fire. It's disgusting, but the smell of charred darkspawn is very satisfying.

Right after that fight and another small skirmish, we reached the stairs to the next level and ascended. At this point, Alistair raised a point:

"What are all these darkspawn doing separate from the rest of the horde? There wasn't supposed to be resistance."

"Didn't you want to fight?" I pointed out.

"Oh. Yeah, I suppose. Silver lining, I guess. Anyway, we need to reach the top of the tower as soon as possible!"

"You'll receive no arguments from me," I replied.

The second floor was... decorated, darkspawn style. By that, I mean the first room was littered with corpses and skeletons, and the center of the room was encircled by spikes with human heads adorning them. These grisly displays continued through the halls, eventually leading to a long hallway, with a group of darkspawn at the end larger than I'd ever faced at once before.

The fight... was not as difficult as you'd expect, because we had two ballistae near us, and a mage tossing wide-area fireballs, incinerating more than a few of the group. The fight was completed without me making more than a few swings.

When we rose to the third floor, I was even more disgusted. The room was covered in dismembered and decapitated corpses. And, Seeker, when I say "decapitated and dismembered", I don't mean separate corpses. There were some such corpses even impaled on spikes, just hanging limply. The room was stained wall to wall with blood. There were also several more darkspawn fights on that floor, but I'm bored, so I'll sum up:

Slash. Slash. Zap. Sizzle of burning flesh. Zap. _Thwick!_ Slash. That funny gurgling sound they make when they die. Slash. Slash. Victory.

Now, the fourth floor, _that _was when things really changed. What was the term I used about the wedding? "Things were really about to go to shit?" Well, things were really, _really_ about to go to shit.

When we ascended, we were hopeful, because we'd reached the top. We thought we would light the signal, Loghain's men would charge, and the darkspawn would be defeated. How little we knew...

As soon as we reached the top of the stairway, we were greeted by the loud, primal screams and floor-shaking presence of an ogre. I remember all of us visibly paling when it spotted us and let out its characteristic bestial bellow.

* * *

9:39 Dragon

City of Amaranthine

"Bullshit," Cassandra objected. "There's no way that's true."

"Really?" Mirevas asked, affecting an offended tone. "Do you think I would I lie to you, lady Seeker?"

"Yes."

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised," he admitted. "What in particular to you think is 'bullshit'?"

"There's no way you could have fought an ogre, a bulky twelve-foot monster, at the top of a tower. How would it even get up there? Surely the passages would be too narrow."

"I don't know," Mirevas admitted. "Maybe it climbed up the outside. Look, I'll make a deal. I ever encounter Urthemiel again, I'll ask him for you."

"The Archdemon is dead."

"Yes. The _Archdemon _is dead. That's my point."

Something about the way he'd said that unnerved Cassandra, but she simply filed it away for later.

"Fine," she relented. "Pretend you fought an ogre on top of a tower. It will be interesting, nonetheless."

"I knew you were enjoying this."

"That is _not _what I meant."

"_Sure._"

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Ostagar, the top floor of the Tower of Ishal

As I was saying, all of us were anticipating a hard fight, and the ogre delivered.

Alistair immediately raised his shield and charged the monster. He managed to deflect a strike from the ogre's fist and slash its arm. The crossbowman loosed several bolts into its thick hide, but they did little but enrage it. A frost spell the mage cast was able to briefly slow it down enough for Alistair and me to make a few cuts on its arms and legs. When it recovered, though, it sent us both flying with a huge swing of its arm. As Alistair recovered his bearings, it lumbered towards me, picked me up, and began punching me. It was crude, but effective, as I couldn't escape its vice-grip and every punch weakened me and caused incredible pain. My torso would be covered in bruises for weeks afterwords. Thankfully, as it threw me to the ground, I was able to springboard off of it and land in a position somewhere between prone and crouched. By now, Alistair had fully recovered and was smashing its legs repeatedly with his shield. Clutching my stomach, I was still able to stagger over to the ogre and slash its legs from behind, crippling it. Alistair hit it with an upward-angled shield bash, knocking its weakened form to the ground. I half-stabbed it, half-fell on it and began furiously slashing its throat with both of my blades, causing it to spurt jets of black blood.

"The beacon is... over there!" Alistair gasped. "We've... surely missed the... signal. We should light it before it's too late."

Too exhausted to speak, I made a vague motion toward the brazier and pulled myself to my feet. Understanding, Alistair went to light it. The brazier started a chain reaction, and a large, highly visible fire lit above us I the tower.

Short of breath, I stumbled toward a window, looking down at the battle. The signal was lit. There was Teyrn Loghain's forces moving... No! That was the wrong way! The battle was the other way... A hopeless feeling welled up inside of me. As I looked at the battle itself, I saw red blood washing over the battlefield. The darkspawn just kept coming from the Wilds.

That was when I realized it. The problem with the plan. The darkspawn couldn't be flanked because they didn't end. They just kept pouring out...

Feeling hollow inside, I watched helplessly as a man in golden armor, who I knew in my head but could not accept in my heart was the king, was raised high by an ogre and crushed in a shower of blood. I watched in misery as a dark-skinned, black-haired man who I knew was Duncan jumped on the ogre in vengeance and defeated it only to be cut down himself by a hurlock alpha. His last sight... The last thing Duncan looked at before he died was the Tower of Ishal, lighting up the night, with no reinforcements incoming. He wasn't the only one. I could see scattered glances from soldiers up to us, and I felt the same betrayal as them. As I watched, the Ferelden forces started to splinter as scattered groups began running for their lives. Before I could see the full shattering of the army of the late king, a group of darkspawn rushed up the stairs and attacked. All I was thinking as I was cleanly impaled by several arrows was the sentence _This can't be happening_ over and over again.

_This can't be happening. _ _This can't be happening. _ _This can't be happening. _ _This _can't_ be happening._

* * *

**AN**: Pintsizedpsycho and SharpRevan, thanks for the reviews!


	8. 7: The Aftermath

**Chapter 7: The Aftermath**

** AN**: Fair warning: This one's a doorstopper, so be prepared.

* * *

9:39 Dragon

City of Amaranthine

Cassandra looked at Mirevas with uncharacteristic sympathy.

"I am... so sorry. I have seen death and destruction. It is part of the life people like you and I live. But this..."

Mirevas scowled.

"You can't even begin to imagine. We had fought to the top of the tower. I was bleeding, battered, and could barely even stand. I didn't know if I would even survive. Then Alistair lit the beacon, and for one glorious moment, I felt hope surge through me. Then Loghain took that hope, ground it under his heel, and pissed on it."

His face turned from anger to sorrow.

"Then Duncan, the man who had saved my life and treated me like a person, was cut down. And the king, naïve as he was, before him. When the darkspawn came up the tower, I probably wouldn't have fought even if I could."

"What happened? How did you escape?"

"_I _didn't escape," he said.

"Then... what happened?"

"I didn't make it, obviously," he retorted, with a completely sincere voice.

"I am not a fool, Commander."

He smiled a bit at that. She had addressed him by his rank for the first time. A sign of respect, perhaps?

"I was just trying to relieve the tension a bit," he sighed. "Let's see, where does the story pick up...?"

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Uncharted territories, the Korcari Wilds

I woke up staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. The all-too-familiar smell of the Wilds greeted my nostrils. I blinked a few times, then examined myself. My bare chest was still black-and-blue with bruises and I could see several bandaged wounds, including the slash I had received from a genlock and multiple arrow entry wounds. Thankfully, the pain had subsided to a dull ache. As I shakily pushed myself into a sitting position, I saw the woman I had previously met in the Wilds enter.

"Ah, he awakens. Mother will be pleased."

"...Morrigan?" I asked hoarsely. "Where am I?"

"In the Wilds, of course. I have just bandaged your wounds. How does your memory fare? Do you remember Mother's rescue?"

"Rescue? No... What happened during the battle? All I remember is a chaotic blur..."

"The man who was to respond to your signal... quit the field. Those he abandoned were massacred."

The horrible memories of those last few moment atop the tower flooded back into my mind.

"Your friend... is not taking it well," she continued.

Barely listening, I cried out, "That traitorous bastard!"

"...and I can see that neither are you."

"Of course I'm not taking it well! Did anyone survive? Soldiers? Grey Wardens?"

"Many deserted when they realized no reinforcements were coming. Others chose to fight to the end. As for Wardens... all dead, as far as I know. Your friend has been veering between denial and grief. Now, Mother wishes to speak to you outside by the fire."

"Alright," I agreed. "Just a few questions. First, how badly was I injured? My memory's fuzzy."

"You received dangerous injury, but nothing Mother could not heal."

"And Alistair?"

"Also fine... physically. It would be unkind to say he is being a child, I suppose."

I glared at her silently. The day of the Battle of Ostagar had forged a bond of loyalty between Alistair and me through blood and betrayal.

"I'm going to ignore that. You said your mother rescued us. How? That tower was four levels up and swarming with darkspawn."

"She turned into a giant bird and plucked you from the tower, one in each talon."

"And the _real_ answer?" I asked.

"Ask her yourself. She may even tell you."

I rolled my eyes. Crypticism and vaguery has always annoyed me.

"Fine. Why did she rescue me?"

"I do not know. Again, 'twould be better for you to ask her. Perhaps she could only reach you two. I would have rescued your king. He would be worth a much higher ransom."

"What use do you have for a ransom when Ferelden is about to be swarmed with darkspawn?" I asked derisively.

"You can ransom people for more than gold, you know..."

"Yeah. Creepy. I get it. She wanted to meet me?"

She nodded, and I stood up unsteadily. My legs were fine, but my torso was burning. I pulled my armor on, wincing at the pressure. Stowing my swords, I walked out of the hut's door.

Alistair was staring despondently into the water. He had a dead look in his eyes. I could only imagine how he felt. I was emotionally devastated, and I comparatively hadn't known Duncan or the rest of the Grey Wardens for long at all. When he saw me, his eyes lit up slightly.

"You... you're alive," he said in a hoarse voice. "I thought you were dead for sure."

"It takes more than that to kill me," I half-joked.

"Duncan's dead... the Grey Wardens, even the king... all dead. It just doesn't seem real. It's only because of Morrigan's mother that we're not dead with them..."

Said mother cut in, "Don't speak about me as if I am not present."

"I... sorry," he apologized. "It's just... what do we call you?"

"Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind call me Flemeth. It will do."

"_The_ Flemeth? You really are the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?" Alistair asked.

"Does it matter?" she asked. "I know a bit of magic, and it has served you, no?"

"I suppose we should thank you," I admitted. "Why _did_ you save us?"

"Well, we can't have all the Grey Wardens dying at once, can we? It is your duty to unite the land against the Blight, or did that change when I wasn't looking?"

"With Loghain's betrayal... it's not that simple," I pointed out.

"It never is."

"Why would Loghain do this?" Alistair wondered.

"_That_ is the true question," was Flemeth's answer. "Men's hearts contain shadows darker than any taint. Perhaps he thinks he can us _tactics_ to defeat the Blight. Perhaps he is simply power-mad, and sought to be king. Regardless, it is clear he does not see the true evil behind it. "

"The archdemon," Alistair said.

"What exactly is an archdemon, outside of a tainted Old God?" I asked.

"History says it is a fearsome and immortal creature, taking the form of a tainted high dragon. And only fools ignore history. Only a Grey Warden can defeat it," Flemeth answered.

"Can we contact the other Grey Wardens?" I asked. "I'm not sure of the chances of two Warden recruits against an archdemon."

"Cailan summoned them," Alistair responded. "But we can't rely on them coming. Loghain has probably taken measures to stop them. He didn't trust us, remember."

"Then... we're all alone," I sighed. "Two Wardens, standing against thousands of darkspawn and a Blighted _god. _How...What can we do?"

"You are not helpless, or alone."

Alistair thought for a moment.

"There must be someone who would stand with us against Loghain's treachery... I know! We can appeal to Eamon, arl of Redcliffe. I know him. He's a good man, and he was Cailan's uncle. And he still has all his men; he wasn't at Ostagar. With his support, we could appeal to the Landsmeet!"

"I'm not sure. How can one arl stand up to the armies of both an entire kingdom _and _the darkspawn?" I lamented.

"You have more at your disposal than that, do you not?" Flemeth asked.

"The treaties! Of course! They promise aid during Blights. We have treaties for dwarves, elves, and mages, all guaranteeing help."

"Mages, elves, dwarves, a powerful arl... Sounds like an army to me," Flemeth said.

"Is it really that simple? Go to these places and build an army?"

"No," I answered. "Things are never that easy. But no one else can do this, so it falls to us. Without us, Loghain will let the Blight consume Ferelden before he lets foreign Wardens into the country."

"So you are ready?" Flemeth asked. "Ready to go and be Grey Wardens?"

"As ready as we'll ever be," I told her.

"Good. There is still one more thing I can yet offer you."

At this point, Morrigan returned from inside the hut.

"The stew is bubbling, Mother. Shall we have two guests for the eve, or none?"

"The Wardens are leaving, girl. And you will be joining them."

It took a bit before she processed what Flemeth had said.

"A shame—What?!"

"You heard me, girl. The last time I checked, you still had ears."

"..Sorry to interrupt," I interrupted, "but I'm not sure we want someone with us against her will."

"Morrigan's magic will be an asset. Beyond that, she know the Wilds and how to get past the horde."

"Have I no say in this?" Morrigan asked angrily.

"You have wanted to get out of the Wilds for years, have you not?" She turned to me. "As for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives."

Apprehensive that bringing this woman along was supposed to be the negative equivalent of our lives being saved, I responded, "I still don't like this. But if you insist..."

"Ah... I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but won't she be dangerous? She's an apostate, outside of the Wilds," Alistair pointed out.

"If you don't want help from _illegal mages, _perhaps I should have left you in that tower."

"That's not what I meant, but... I take your point."

"Mother," Morrigan said. "I am not even ready..."

"You must be ready. These Wardens stand alone against the darkspawn." Directed at Alistair and me, she told, "I give you that which I value above all else in this world, because you _must_ succeed."

"If she's coming along, then we'll do our best to protect her."

"Allow me to get my things, if you please." Morrigan went into the hut and returned with her staff and a few other belongings.

"I suggest a small village to the north as our first stop. 'Tis not far. Or," she said the next part through gritted teeth, "if you _prefer, _I shall simply be your _silent guide_."

My response of "No. Speak your mind" elicited a chuckle from Flemeth.

"You will regret that," she commented.

Alistair posed a question: "Do you really want to bring her along because her mother said so?"

I stared at him confusedly.

"Did you miss the 'the two of us are standing alone against the Blight' thing?" I asked.

"I... suppose the Wardens have always taken allies where they could find them..." he admitted.

"I am _so _glad to have your approval," Morrigan commented in an annoyed, sarcastic voice.

"Before we leave, I have a few questions," I told her.

"Speak, then."

"Tell me of this village."

"'Tis a small, unimportant place called Lothering. No more than a stop on your Imperial Highway for supplies to be purchased. I would have gone there more, but the chantry made the town _unwelcoming_ to those such as me."

"The Chantry? Unwelcoming? Perish the thought!" I snarked.

"Wait... The town has a chantry, and they never suspected you were a witch?" Alistair asked.

"They did. Several times, in fact. Once they even called out their templars. They _found_ nothing."

"All right. Back on topic: How are we going to get past the darkspawn?"

"On that topic, it is your friend we should be worried about, is it not?"

"It's true," Alistair admitted. "Our ability to sense darkspawn goes both ways."

"I don't sense any darkspawn."

"Oh, you will... It just takes time."

"Mother has given me something else to smell instead, so long as we head out of the Wilds and not further in."

"Understood. Do you have any skills I should know about?"

"I know some spells, though not to the same level as Mother. I have also studied history, and your treaties."

"Can you cook?" Alistair asked.

"I... _can_... yes."

"Believe me, you took that the wrong way. Unless you want to eat charred rabbit for the next however long this takes, it would be best if you cook."

"He's not wrong," Alistair admitted.

"Well, I also know fifteen poisons that grow in this marsh. Of course, 'tis not at _all_ related to cooking..."

"I... have no more questions. Let's go."

Morrigan turned back to Flemeth and told her, "Remember the stew on the fire. 'Twould be shame to return to a burned down hut."

"You are far more likely to return to find this entire area, including my hut, swallowed by the Blight!"

With uncharacteristic hesitation, Morrigan replied, "I... all I meant..."

"I know. Do try to have fun."

At that, Morrigan began leading us along the road and we ventured forth to Lothering.

* * *

9:39 Dragon

City of Amaranthine

"You expect me to believe that you and all of Ferelden owe their lives to a legend?" Cassandra asked impatiently.

"Are _you_ ever going to realize that I'm not lying to you?"

"Perhaps when you aren't..."

"I'm _not. _I wasn't about the ogre, and I'm not now. You knew about Morrigan. Why is Flemeth existing such a stretch?"

"Hmm..."

"If you'd don't want to believe, that's _your_ business. I really don't care."

* * *

9:30 Dragon

The Imperial Highway, south of Lothering

Before we reached Lothering, we encountered a group of darkspawn. As we approached, a mabari ran up next to us and helped in the fight.

The band of hurlocks charged at us across the road. The mabari ran one down and began clawing and biting at it. Alistair knocked one down with his shield as it ran at him. Morrigan downed one by hitting it with some sort of draining magical effect. Then, to my shock, she ran forward and her form shifted to that of a dog-sized spider, which was able to savage one of the 'spawn with its mandibles. In a few furious movements, I cut down several of the hurlocks. I could see the last few fall to a combination of blades and various forms of biting.

Morrigan transformed back into her human form, oblivious to the stares directed at her.

Waving off Alistair's beginning of a question, I told him, "Ask later." Then I looked at the dog, which was sitting, looking at me expectantly.

I petted it, and it panted, sounding contented. It was familiar somehow...

"Hey, boy. You're the same dog I helped save back at Ostagar, aren't you?"

"He must have been looking for you," Alistair told me. "Mabari are smart like that. They call it 'imprinting'."

Morrigan scoffed disgustedly.

"Does this mean we will have _another_ stupid beast following us around?" she asked, glancing knowingly at Alistair.

"Well..." I hesitated. I wasn't sure at first, but then I just looked at the panting, smiling dog and my heart melted. "Okay, he can come, but he'd better be useful."

"And yet Alistair is still with us..."

I rolled my eyes, then looked back at the dog.

"You're going to need a name, aren't you?" I thought about it for a moment. "Who's the guy from that story with the werewolf?"

"Dane?" Alistair offered.

"That's the one. What do you think, boy? Do you like the name 'Dane'?"

He barked happily.

"Dane it is then."

After that, we continued to walk toward Lothering, Dane following after us.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Lothering

As we were about to cross the bridge to Lothering, we were set upon by a band of highwayman "toll collectors". They foolishly asked us for money to allow us through.

"You're.. _toll collectors_, then?" I asked annoyedly.

"Indeed. The Imperial Highway is quite expensive to maintain."

"No. you're stupid if you think I'll believe that."

"It's not really a toll. We're just robbing you, see?" the leader's somewhat thick companion said.

"Well, you see, the group you're looking at is comprised of two Grey Wardens, a mage and a mabari warhound. Let us pass."

The leader hesitated.

"...in that case, perhaps we will let the toll go this once. We will leave you Wardens to your darkspawn-fighting, regicidal ways."

"You think I'm going to let you just stay here and prey on fleeing refugees? Leave. And don't come back." I gave Morrigan an aside glance.

"I'm afraid we can't—MAKER'S BREATH!" He stared horrified as Morrigan shapeshifted into her spider form.

"NevermindI'mfinelet'sgomen!" he rapidly spoke, pointing frantically in the other direction.

Morrigan turned back to human form and smirked at their retreating forms, and we moved into Lothering.

When we reached the end of the bridge, Alistair surveyed the village. It was pretty nice-looking, but it had an atmosphere of fear and desperation throughout it.

"There it is. Lothering," Alistair said, calmer and less anguished.

"Ah. Decided to rejoin us, have you?" Morrigan asked snidely. "Falling on your blade in grief seemed too much trouble?"

Alistair shot her a glare.

"Is being upset so hard to understand? What would you do if your mother died?"

"Laugh, at first."

"Right. Very creepy."

"You've been quiet. Morrigan was a bit blunt, but the point stands."

"I know," he admitted. "I've been thinking."

"That would explain the delay," Morrigan cut in.

"Let me guess," Alistair said to her, annoyed. "This is where you make the shocking confession that you've never had a friend in your life."

"I can be friendly, when I desire to. Sadly, the same cannot be said for intelligence."

Sending her a withering glare, he turned back to me.

"I was just thinking about where we should go first."

"Good," I replied. "We need to decide. Do you have a map?"

He pulled a map of Ferelden out of his pack, along with the treaties. He pointed out where we had treaties—the Dalish of the Brecilian Forest, the dwarves of Orzammar, and the mages at Kinloch Hold in Lake Calenhad—as well as Redcliffe, home of Arl Eamon.

"I think we should visit Redcliffe first," I told him. It looks the closest... as long as you're sure the arl will help us?"

"I can't _know_ that, but I trust him. I knew him, and he's a good man."

"Then we have our plan. Let's go," I said to them.

Down the ramp, we walked into a makeshift camp full of tents, with a few dozen refugees standing or running around. It was depressing, because I knew most of them were here because they had lost their homes. Oblivious or apathetic to their suffering, Morrigan chose then to needle Alistair about accepting the authority of a junior Grey Warden, and he admitted that he preferred to follow.

We walked through the camp and into the village proper. As we approached, a templar warned us, "If you're looking for safe shelter, I'll warn you: There's none to be found."

"Cheery," I muttered.

When we walked further, we came upon a small family of elves, standing despondently next to a river. When I approached, they asked me if I had anything to spare, as they had lost everything to bandits.

"The bandits on the bridge leading here? I drove them off. Your things might still be there."

"Thank you so much, friend," the father said. "It is good to know that others will be safe, even if our belongings aren't there." They began walking toward the bridge where the bandits were.

Smiling a bit, I refocused on the village. I could see a chantry, but didn't want to go _there, _if at all possible, so I kept moving. We crossed a river and came upon a tavern, Dane's Refuge. Thinking this would be as good a place as any to gather information, we entered.

We were immediately set upon by a group of soldiers wearing high-quality, ornate armor. The leader inspected me and asked one of his companions, "Now, haven't we been asking about an elf of this very description all morning?"

"'We haven't seen anyone like that', everyone's been saying," he replied.

"It seems we were lied to."

At this point, a red-haired woman in Chantry robes walked between us. She spoke in an accent I couldn't recognize at first, but soon realized was Orlesian. I had never heard an actual Orlesian accent before, but I'd heard enough drunken mockeries to have a vague idea.

"Gentlemen, surely there is no need for trouble. These are no doubt simply more poor souls seeking refuge."

"Out of our way, Sister," the leader told her, "or you'll get the same as these traitors."

"Can't we talk about this?" I asked. "No?"

"I doubt it," the woman commented. "He follows his master blindly."

"Blindly?" the man asked, offended. "I saw what happened at Ostagar. The king died because of the Wardens' treachery! If it weren't for Loghain, we'd be dead too...Enough." He turned to his companion.

"Take the Warden into custody. Kill her," he pointed toward the Chantry woman, "and anyone else in your way."

"This'll be quick," his companion muttered.

A loud gasp filled the room as the two men and another three soldiers around the room drew their swords, as did I. The woman in Chantry robes also drew a dagger from somewhere (I had no idea where she had kept it). It was a harder fight than I was used to because of how heavily armored the soldiers were, but the woman helping us was remarkably skilled, so the fight _was _quick. Soon, the four soldiers were wounded or unconscious and only the leader remained, barely standing. I motioned Dane forward, and he charged the man, knocking him over.

"I surrender!" the man screamed, looking up at Dane's snarling jaws.

"Good," the Chantry woman said. "They've learned, and we don't have have to fight anymore."

Glaring at the fallen leader, I spat, "Bring a message to Loghain. Tell him 'The Wardens know the truth of Ostagar'."

"Yes, of course!" he panickedly assured. I called off Dane and the man fled.

The woman turned to me and told me, "I am sorry for interfering, but I needed to help."

"And who _are _you, exactly?" I asked.

"I am Leliana, lay sister of the Lothering Chantry. Or, well... I was."

* * *

9:39 Dragon

City of Amaranthine

"Something wrong, Seeker?"

"What?" Cassandra asked. "No."

"You just seemed... surprised? apprehensive? not sure.. when I mentioned Leliana."

She shook her head.

"I was not any of those things. I knew of Leliana. Most people have heard of your companions... You were just seeing things."

Smirking, Mirevas thought, _Huh. She doesn't know that I know. This might be fun..._

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Lothering

"Nice to meet you, Leliana. Was there any other reason you helped us?"

"You are Grey Wardens, no? You fight the darkspawn? I am coming along."

I stared at her for a few seconds.

Hesitantly, I replied, "...it's true that I can use any help I can get, but why are you so eager to come along?"

"The Maker told me to," she answered without a trace of irony.

I unconsciously took a half-step back.

"So... you're one of _those_ types?"

"What type do you mean?" she asked.

"Chantry fanatics. The kind that have been oppressing my people for the last seven hundred years."

"What? No!" She sounded horrified. "I know what that must have sounded, like, but it's true. I had a vision!"

"A vision," I repeated flatly.

"Look around! These people are lost in despair, and you can help them. Fighting the darkspawn, defeating the Blight... that is the Maker's work, and I want to help."

"Can you even help us?"

"Of course. I wasn't always a lay sister. I thought I had left that life behind, but this cause is worth it. I can fight. You saw that much."

Sighing, I thought _I hope I don't regret this _and said, "Alright. I won't turn away an offer of help."

"_Thank you._ You will not regret giving me this chance."

"Hopefully not.." I muttered. "Do you have any proper armor? Chantry robes are not effective fighting attire."

"Indeed." She left the tavern. While she was gone, I approached the bartender. After assuring him I wouldn't make any more trouble, I asked him for rumors. There was little he could tell me that we couldn't already guess, but he said that Loghain was ruling Ferelden as regent and had put blame for the loss entirely on the Wardens' shoulders.

One interesting thing, however, was that the knights of Redcliffe were scouring the countryside and cities, looking for clues as to the resting place of the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Apparently, the arl had come down with some kind of sickness. The bartender guessed it might be the Blight.

Curiosity somewhat sated, I led the group out of Dane's Refuge and met back up with Leliana, who had changed into real armor. Well, I don't really count leathers as "real armor", but that's beside the point. Anyway...

She was really quite beautiful, without the Chantry robes... and blood spatter, but mostly the Chantry robes. She had a demeanor of kindness and gentleness that made me feel like she could possibly be trusted. The well-fitting armor probably helped as well.

"Stop staring at the woman!" Morrigan commanded, annoyed.

"I wasn't staring!" I insisted. I was staring. "Humans are just... really tall..."

"She is perhaps an inch taller than you."

Blushing slightly, Leliana cut in, "All right then. I am ready to accompany you."

"Good. I have more questions, but they can wait. Let's go."

As the now-larger group moved further into Lothering, I spotted a familiar face. I had seen him at Ostagar. You're probably going to want to hear this.

"Carver?" I asked, walking up to him. "Carver Hawke? Didn't I meet you at Ostagar?"

He had been talking with two women—his sisters, I assumed—dressed in loose clothes and carrying some sort of polearms or staves. When he heard my voice, he turned to face me.

"Hey. You're that recruit for the Wardens I met. Mirevas, right?"

"That would be me."

"The teyrn claimed that the loss at Ostagar was your faults... but I was there. Don't worry. I won't tell anyone, and I know the truth."

"Good," I remarked, relieved. "So, would these be the sisters you mentioned being worried about?"

"Yes... but-"

"Oh, shove it, Carver," one of his sisters, a green-eyed blonde, told him. "Your big sister doesn't need you to help protect her."

"What, just because I'm not-"

"Carver!"

She turned to me.

"Ignore my little brother. He's always like that. I'm Lynn. Carver, Bethany," she indicated the other woman, "and I have just been preparing to leave. Mother's still at home gathering what little we have for the road."

"Best of luck on your way." I paused, then curiously questioned, "If you don't mind me asking, what are-" I pointed at the objects fastened to their backs.

"It's a spear," she interrupted.

"A spear."

"Yes. A spear."

"Not a st-"

"It's a spear. Stick. Blade. Spear," she continued to insist.

"All right. Well, if there _were_ any apostates present, I would tell them they have nothing to worry about, as we're wanted fugitives too."

"I'll be sure to pass the message along if I see anyone," she said knowingly.

"Well, goodbye, then." I turned and started walking away.

As I walked, I could hear Lynn say, "Wait... Carver, isn't that that lay sister with the accent you've been mooning over?"

I heard him reply, mortified, "Lynn!"

The other woman, Bethany, giggled.

* * *

9:39 Dragon

City of Amaranthine

Cassandra stared wordlessly at Mirevas, mouth slightly agape.

"You... _met_ the Champion?" she asked, shocked.

"Yep."

"I... I don't even... Did she seem..."

"Nothing happened that I didn't tell you about. I met her, she explained that her family was about to leave Lothering, she vehemently denied being a mage, and she needled Carver. That's it. You can grasp at straws and make bullshit conspiracy theories all you like, but I'm telling you the whole truth."

"Hmm..." She paused. "You said you realized they were apostates. Why didn't-"

"Don't finish that question. I didn't turn them in because that would have been stupid. My life had been saved by an apostate, and another, abrasive but helpful, was accompanying me. More than that, I was a fugitive from 'justice' too, and I wasn't about to turn in three reasonable, nice people just for an accident of birth."

"So your mage sympathies had already begun to form?"

I nodded.

"There were more important events in Lothering, but you might not be quite as interested..."

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Lothering

Further along, on the opposite outskirts of the town proper, we heard a deep voice coming from a cage as we walked past a wall.

"Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun," I heard the voice recite.

I peered into the cage curiously. It housed a very tall man with grey-bronze skin and white hair cut in rows, wearing simple clothing.

_And I thought _humans_ were tall_, I thought.

"You are not my captor," he said taciturnly.

"I remember the revered mother mentioning this man. A 'Qunari savage', or something along those lines," Leliana said.

"Leave, elf. I am not here for your amusement."

"What are you?" I asked.

"A prisoner."

Before I could get too annoyed, Leliana told me, "He was placed in that cage for the murder of a family. Even the children."

"It is as she says," he admitted. "I am Sten of the Beresaad, the vanguard of the Qunari."

"Who's 'the vanguard'? You, or this 'Beresaad'?" I asked.

"Yes."

"I must admit, I never heard of the Qunari where I lived."

"That is your own shortcoming. I am not here to enlighten you. Though it matters little now... I will die here, given time."

In what would become a _very_ rare occurrence, all of my companions made a unanimous agreement. Leliana believed that no one, not even a murderer, deserved to be trapped in a cage to be killed by the horde. Alistair pointed out that Qunari were world-renowned warriors, and would be valuable to our efforts. Morrigan, in a shocking twist, believed that he should be released out of mercy. Then she went back to her usual self by suggesting that Alistair replace him in the cage.

"Leliana said you murdered a family. Are you... interested in atonement?"

"I will find my atonement in death."

"There are other ways, you know."

He looked at me skeptically.

"What do you suggest to be equal to my crime?"

"I am a Grey Warden. You could find your atonement... or your death... fighting against the darkspawn."

"Surprising. I have heard stories of the Wardens' legendary skill... Not every legend is true, I suppose. In any case, it seems as likely to bring my death as waiting here. If you can free me, I will follow."

I turned back, and, with much displeasure, headed toward the chantry. Outside, we had a brief encounter with an insane Chasind raving about how the world was ending. He said that I was 'filled with the vile blackness' of the darkspawn. Frighteningly accurate, though I don't know how he knew it. Eventually, I found out that his clan and family had been slaughtered by the darkspawn, and he ran away, sobbing madly. When the people gathered around him voiced their doubts, I rallied them into hope, and they decided not to accept their fates.

Before we entered, we conversed a bit with a templar (I won't say "buckethead", because he was not, in fact, wearing a bucket helmet) named Ser Maron.

When inside, we talked to Knight-Captain Bryant, leader of the remaining templars in Lothering. It was not a particularly notable conversation, but one thing he said made me respect him more than most templars. Regarding Loghain's "ascent" to the throne, he remarked, "Only a fool fights over who owns a cottage while it burns down around them." He told us that Lothering's bann had been called north, and the village had been abandoned to its fate.

Another conversation sprung up with a knight of Redcliffe, Ser Donall, who elaborated on his fellows' and his quest for the Urn of Sacred Ashes. After Eamon fell ill, Arlessa Isolde had sent all of the town's knights out to find the Urn. Donall felt like the chances of finding it dimmed as time went on, because he had been searching for months. Alistair told me that he thought even more it was the right idea to go to Redcliffe.

When that was done, we finally advanced past a pair of buckethead guards to talk to the revered mother. She, in that trademark condescending Chantry way, immediately hit me up for a donation.

"A donation?" I asked impatiently. "The village is days away from being overrun, and you're asking me to _tithe_? Unless you're going to use it to help evacuate, which I _highly_ doubt, I think I know of more righteous ways to spend my coin."

In the _other_ trademark Chantry tone of voice, annoyance masked by feigned civility, she replied, "You must do as your heart wills."

"I want to talk about the imprisoned Qunari."

"Execution might have been kinder, but his fate lies with the Maker now. Why?"

"I want him released."

"Why? Do you want his next victims to blame you and me?"

"I'm a Grey Warden. Release him into my custody, and he'll help us fight against the Blight."

Her eyes slid past me, in a dismissive gesture that annoyed me greatly, to look at Leliana.

"Sister Leliana, what do you think? You would understand your friend better than I."

Leliana hesitantly responded, "These are... unusual times, Your Reverence. With us, the Qunari might do some good."

"He could also quite possibly die," I pointed out, annoyed at the revered mother, "which is _your_ goal already."

Barely suppressing a glare, the revered mother agreed to hand over the key to the Qunari's cage.

I walked back out of the chantry, smirking slightly. We walked back to Sten's cage.

"You return."

"I have the key to your cage. The revered mother _reluctantly_ agreed to release you into my custody."

"Then set me free, and lead me against the Blight."

I inserted the key and the lock clicked open. I opened the door.

"And so it is done. I will follow you into battle and find my atonement."

"Good."

He stepped out of the cage and began following me. I looked around town more, helped a few people, killed some bandits, until eventually, I decided it was time to move on. We moved across a field-and-farmland area to another bridge leading away from town. A small band of darkspawn was about to attack two dwarves, one of them a merchant. However, with the new group members, they barely had one-to-one odds, so they were slaughtered easily.

"Good timing there, my friends. I'm much obliged," one of the dwarves, the older-looking, heavily bearded one, said to me.

"No trouble," I responded. "Darkspawn-killing's kind of my job description."

"Ah, a Grey Warden, then? I was about to suggest I join you on the road, but I'll have to rethink that. The name's Bodahn Feddic, merchant. This is my boy, Sandal," he pointed to the other dwarf, a beardless, simple-looking one. "Say hello, my boy."

"Hello."

"Now, if there's nothing else, good luck on the road. Come, Sandal, let's clean up this mess."

I nodded to the dwarf and the seven of us continued on the road from Lothering.

* * *

**AN**: Thanks to Pintsizedpsycho and SharpRevan for the reviews!


	9. 8: Interlude II

**Chapter 8: Interlude II**

**AN**: Warning: not much action in this one, mostly camp conversations.

* * *

9:39 Dragon

City of Amaranthine

"There was a lull in action between Lothering and Redcliffe. We encountered few conflicts along the road, but I had several mildly noteworthy conversations. I'll tell you..."

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Camp off the Imperial Highway, west of Lothering

First and foremost was the night that I left Lothering. We had set up camp, and I had fallen asleep. I was suffering _horrible_ nightmares.

_Deep underground, above a trench. Thousands of orange dots glowing below._

_ An enormous dragon, breathing purple fire._

_ Down in the trench. A darkspawn horde, incomprehensibly vast. _

_ Undercutting it all, unintelligible whispers and faint echoes of a haunting song._

I awoke, covered in sweat, my heart racing.

"Bad dreams?" Alistair asked, sitting a distance away in front of the fire.

"Yeah... I saw... darkspawn? It seemed so real. I could almost smell the taint on them."

"Well, it's _sort of_ real. Part of being a Grey Warden is being able to hear the darkspawn. We can hear along with the horde when the archdemon 'speaks'. So we know that this is definitely a Blight."

Heart still pounding, I breathed, "What? You mean the Wardens knew for absolute certain that this was a Blight, and no one believed them?"

"Well, Duncan did tell the king he could sense the archdemon, but there was no way to prove it," he explained. "Anyway, eventually the dreams get better. They'll never go away completely, but you can learn to block them out a bit. I just saw you tossing and turning and wanted to tell you. I was terrified the first time."

"Thanks, Alistair."

"Well, delivering bad news and sarcastic quips is what I'm here for, right?"

Smiling blearily, I got up and began walking around to talk to my new companions. First, I saw the dwarves I had saved earlier, Bodahn and Sandal Feddic, set up near our camp with a caravan. I approached them.

"What are you two doing here?" I asked.

"We saw you on the road, and I thought, 'What safer place to camp than with a Grey Warden?'" Bodahn told me.

"Anywhere?" I responded. "You were the one who thought it would be too dangerous, weren't you?"

"Well, yes, at first, but then I realized we'd be safe from bandits and other brigands. I also thought you might have use for a merchant on the road in your fight against the darkspawn. I would be prepared to compensate you for tolerating our presence with a discount. My boy here is also quite good with enchantment."

I thought about it. A merchant and an enchanter traveling with us?

"Deal. Just... don't get in anyone's way, and we'll be fine."

"Thank you!" He turned to Sandal. "Thank the nice man, Sandal."

"Thank you, ser."

I nodded and turned away. Next, I walked over to Morrigan's camp. Morrigan had set up her own tent and fire far away from the rest of us. I wasn't particularly surprised; she had seemed like quite the recluse.

"What do you wish of me?" she asked when I reached her.

"Would you mind if I ask you a few questions?" I asked.

"No. But I make no guarantee of providing _answers_."

Rolling my eyes, I asked, "What you did back before we reached Lothering... You turned into a giant spider. How, exactly?"

"Shapeshifting? 'Tis a skill, taught to me by Flemeth over years in the Wilds. The Chasind have tales of us, spying on children in animal form so as to better abduct them and drag them off to be devoured." She scoffed. "As if we don't have better things to do!"

"So... that's just a legend, then?"

"As far as I know. I certainly cannot speak for what Flemeth may or may not have done in the past. Why do you ask about this?"

"Shock, mostly. I had never seen or even heard of any magic like this."

"That is unsurprising. The Chantry would have you believe that no traditions of magic exist outside of the Circle of Magi, but they do. In remote areas, practitioners continue to pass down their magics. I believe your Dalish are an example."

I looked at her, offended.

"They are not _my_ Dalish. Dalish and city elves are as different as elves and humans... or so I've heard. All I really know about the Dalish is that they're arrogant, insular forest folk who look down on humans, and city elves more."

"I did not intend to offend."

"No, it's fine. Another question: You said you learned this skill from Flemeth. Does that mean you could teach it?"

"Yes... but I will not. In any case, I could not teach it to you. 'Tis magical in nature, and thus requires one to already be a mage."

"Fair enough. So... what's it like to be an animal?"

"'Tis... hard to describe. You think you know this world well, but I have seen and heard it through heightened senses and prowled shadows you have never even imagined."

"Sounds... I can't even imagine that. I... don't have any more questions."

"Oh? Have you formed an opinion of me? Am I an abomination to be burned?"

I scoffed.

"The _Chantry_ would probably consider you not even worthy to share Andraste's method of execution. _I_, however, am not the Chantry. I look at you and see a powerful mage with useful skills that has probably saved my life at least once."

"Pragmatism _and _disdain for the Chantry? Perhaps we will get along well after all."

Smiling, I turned away and walked back to the main camp. I returned to Alistair.

"Alistair," I began. "We never talked about what happened. With the Wardens... and Duncan."

"You don't need to do that," he protested. "I realize you didn't know him as well."

I stared at him for a bit.

"Maybe not. But did you think that I wouldn't mourn the loss of the man who saved me from a slow death by abuse and malnutrition?"

That gave Alistair pause.

"I... sorry. I had forgotten how you were recruited. Also, I should have held it together better. I was told right from the beginning that any of us could fall in battle. To fall apart when all of Ferelden is counting on us..."

"Don't worry," I assured. "Just... keep it together in the future, okay?"

"I will. I've been thinking that when this is over... if I'm still alive... I'd like to give him a proper funeral. I don't think he had any real family, and I don't know what the Wardens usually do. Hmm... Have you ever had someone close to you die?"

"My mother was murdered by humans a few years ago," I answered. "So yes, I have a pretty good idea of what you're going through."

"Wow. I can't even imagine..." He took a deep breath. "Thank you. It was good to talk about this, even just for a bit."

"Yeah," I agreed. "He was a good man. He deserves to be remembered."

"I'm glad I'm not the only one to think so."

I nodded, then moved away to talk to Leliana.

I asked her to answer a few questions, and she agreed.

"Well, to start... You don't seem to fit the 'cloistered sister' type. What was someone like you doing there?" I asked.

"Oh? 'Someone like me'? What is that supposed to mean?" she inquired playfully.

"You seem kind... gentle... not at all arrogant or sanctimonious..."

"Are those not attributes associated with members of the Chantry?"

I genuinely laughed at that.

"In a perfect world, maybe, but not the one we live in. Maybe your experiences were different, but I've never met another Chantry person who wasn't preachy, condescending, outright racist, or some combination thereof."

"I... find it hard to disagree, much as it pains me. To answer your original question: I sought refuge and the Chantry provided it. Afterwards, I chose to stay."

"So... the fighting... daggers and such... That was learned before, presumably?"

"Yes... though you have not truly seen me fight until I get my hands on a bow. I learned on the road in Orlais. I was a traveling minstrel: I sang and performed, and I made my living. Er... Let's move on."

"Fair enough. So what was it like there? In the cloister?"

"It was... quiet. Peaceful. But not perfect. Some of my fellows looked down on me."

"Can't say I'm surprised. How so?"

"They disdained me for my idea that the Maker reveals himself in His world's beauty. They want to believe that the Maker cannot have love for all. They want to feel special when He turns His gaze on them."

I smirked.

"Yeah. Sounds about right. For the record, if the Chantry shared your beliefs... I would probably have no problems with it."

"Thank you," she smiled. "Maybe they are right, but it is the Maker's place to judge me."

"So... speaking of your beliefs..." I began.

Leliana sighed apprehensively.

"I knew this would come up. You want to speak of my vision. It's... hard to explain. I had a dream... more than a dream. I saw an impenetrable darkness spread across the world as I stood on a peak watching. Then... I fell, and was pulled into the darkness."

"So... you think you had a vision of the Blight."

"I suppose. But it was more than that. I went out the next morning to the chantry's gardens, and the dead, twisted rose bush had flowered. A single beautiful rose, like the hand of the Maker had touched it."

"That _is_... quite a set of circumstances, I'll admit. So this is why you tried to help us?"

"Indeed. I couldn't just sit by and watch everything beautiful in the Maker's world be consumed by chaos and destruction."

"I feel the same way. Well, not because of the Maker... This world is full of evil and injustice, but it's also full of beauty and kindness. I want to make it better, but the darkspawn have to be dealt with, first."

"Well... let's get going, then."

After that, I made a failed attempt to converse with Sten and decided to go back to sleep.

After that night, the conversations I had between Lothering and Redcliffe are muddled in my mind. I don't really remember context for them, or the order, so I'll just tell them.

* * *

Morrigan

One day, I went to Morrigan with more questions. I'd discovered that asking her too many questions at once just led to her being annoyed and sarcastic... _More_ annoyed and sarcastic.

"So, living in the Wilds as an apostate. Ever get the templars after you?" I asked.

She laughed, an action that I couldn't identify as genuine or sarcastic.

"You are cute to ask so many questions," she remarked.

"Yeah, well, admire from a distance. I asked a question. Please answer."

Sighing, she answered, "All right, then. 'Tis no secret, exactly. My mother and I were hunted, yes. By templars, like Alistair. You can likely imagine how successful they were, based on that. To me as a child, it was a game, as a matter of fact. When the templars came, Flemeth came to me to tell me the fun wold begin once more."

"I don't envy a templar's chance against your mother and you, even as a child," I commented.

"Nor should you. Flemeth would always give them a chance to leave, and live. They never did. So my mother would use me as bait to lure the templars deep into the Wilds... and to their dooms."

"You didn't have any problems being bait to the templars? When you were a _child_?" I questioned, shocked.

"Well, I _was_ a child. I had no idea of the true danger I had faced until I was much older."

"So, to you, it was just fun? A game?"

"I believe my mother made it a game so I could learn. There is no mercy for apostates. If you peacefully submit, you may be allowed the _privilege _of being locked in a tower for the rest of your life under the authority of the templars. If you fight back or rebel, then you're dead. My mother taught me that before all else, you must survive. Do you disagree?"

I thought about it for a moment.

"Yes. When I was growing up, I was told that if I did something wrong or did something bad to a human and was captured, the best I could hope for was to die quickly and cleanly. There are definitely worse things than death."

"I... would not consider something like that to be survival. But I can see your point."

* * *

Alistair

"Can you answer some things about the way you fight?" I asked Alistair.

"Maybe. Ask away," he replied.

"I've noticed two things. First, when you fight mages, your blows seem to weaken them. Second, when you block elemental blasts, you seem to deflect them more than would seem possible."

"Ah," he said. "Those are templar abilities I learned in my training. The strikes are mana-draining. It's a skill based on a combination of mental discipline and knowing where to strike. The deflection is a shield technique: Angle my shield slightly downward, and my beautiful face stays undisfigured."

"Oh. What can you tell me about templars?"

I won't bore you by telling you things you already know, but he told me about how templars are trained in combat and fighting mages, and he also gave me the _very_ interesting information that templars are addicted to lyrium to "enhance" their powers. He then commented that usually the Chantry doesn't let the templars get away to share their secrets.

* * *

Sten

"What were you doing in that cage?" I asked Sten.

"Sitting. I believe you knew that."

"Do you need to be so literal?"

"No."

"Are you _going _to be so literal?"

"Yes."

"All right, fine."

* * *

Leliana Morrigan

I recall one night that I received two entirely different tellings of the same tale from Leliana and then Morrigan. It was the tale of Flemeth.

Leliana was somewhat taken aback by my claim to have met Flemeth. Not very surprising. She said that once, Flemeth was incredibly beautiful,and drew the attention of Conobar, the lord of Highever. He took her as his wife and protected her when he learned of her magic. Then one day, she and a bard, Osen, fell in love. They ran away to the Wilds and lived there for a time. Later, they were tricked into returning, Osen was killed, and Flemeth was captured. There, she summoned a demon, was possessed, and killed everyone in the castle before retreating to the Wilds to have a bunch of me daughters who roam the Wilds doing nefarious things.

Morrigan's version, which she said came from the woman herself, was quite different. She claimed that Osen was in fact Flemeth's husband, and Conobar desired her. Conobar offered Osen wealth and power in exchange for his life. Endorsed by the woman herself, Osen agreed. Conobar, however, went back on his word and had Osen killed. Flemeth did not particularly care for Osen, but was furious at Conobar's treachery. She consorted with spirits who helped her gain revenge. Later, his men chased her into the Wilds where she found the demon. Cormac, a hero often credited with defeating a Chasind invasion led by Flemeth, she claimed, was completely unrelated to Flemeth, and she was attached much later. She also talked about Flemeth supposedly having many daughters, who she one day hunted down and ate the hearts of.

Then she asked me of my mother, and I told her the sad tale. Not quite as epic as hers, but presumably moving.

* * *

Morrigan

One conversation with Morrigan, which I _cannot_ remember the details of, confirmed that yes, Morrigan is in fact very bad at functioning in society. I remember her being creeped out by handshakes.

* * *

Alistair

During one amusing conversation with Alistair, when I asked him about his parentage, he claimed that he was raised by a pack of "giant, slobbering dogs from the Anderfels".

"So, are we talking about actual canines here, or just normal Anders?" I snarked.

"Oh, no, real dogs. Flying dogs, and devout Andrastians, to boot."

"And these dogs trained you to be a templar, then?"

"Well... no..." He sighed. "Fine. Let's get it out of the way. I'm a bastard." He cut off my sarcastic quip with, "As in, I don't know my father. My mother was a serving girl at Redcliffe Castle. She died when I was young, and the arl raised me. I'm not bitter about being sent off to the Chantry... anymore."

"The arl... wasn't your father, was he?"

"No. At least I'm pretty sure no. I know who I was told was my father, but that doesn't matter. Anyway, the rumors did exist that I was his son, but he didn't care. The problem came when he married Isolde, an Orlesian noblewoman. She resented the rumors, and so I was sent off to a monastery."

"So... when you say the arl raised you..."

"I mean more like 'allowed me to live in the stables'. I wasn't raised as his son."

"Good. I... have a mild distaste for the nobility."

"I don't doubt it. I remember one thing... I had an amulet of Andraste's holy symbol. It was my mother's... then when I found out I was being sent away, I threw it at the wall, and it shattered." He sighed. "But, the past is the past. In the present, I think we need to reach Redcliffe as soon as possible. This news of him being sick... I'm worried Loghain will try to take advantage somehow. Eamon's one of the few people who might be able to stand up to him."

"Maybe he has something to do with the arl's sickness?"

"What? It's possible, but that would mean Loghain would have to have been planning his treason and not just making a spur-of-the-moment decision. I don't like to think that... but it's possible."

* * *

9:39 Dragon

City of Amaranthine

"You are saying that the future king lied to you about his parentage?" Cassandra asked, confused.

"What? Unless you're referring to the whole 'Ander wild dogs' thing, no," Mirevas replied.

"But..."

"He said that he didn't know his father, which was true. He said his mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe Caste who died when he was young. As far as I'm aware, that's true, too. He said his father's identity didn't matter, which was sort of not true, but he didn't know. Now, I think that's all of the important conversations for now. A few weeks after leaving Lothering, we reached the outskirts of Redcliffe. _That_ is an incredible story..."

* * *

**AN**: Thanks to SharpRevan and Pintsizedpsycho for reviewing.

**AN 2**: Thanks to everyone who's read this. I broke 1100 views in only two weeks, and none of my stories have ever been this popular, so thank you all.


	10. 9: The Defense of Redcliffe

**Chapter 9: The Defense of Redcliffe**

9:30 Dragon

The outskirts of Redcliffe village

Well, you see, Seeker, it didn't really matter if Alistair was lying to me or not, because the truth came out soon enough. As we were approaching Redcliffe village, he asked me to stop so he could talk.

"I probably should have just told you this a few days ago, but..." He sighed. "Remember when I was telling you about my parentage?"

"Yeah," I replied. "You were the bastard son of a serving girl in Redcliffe Castle and Eamon raised you."

"Well... _That_ was true... Remember how I said my father's identity wasn't important? That may not have been entirely correct. My father was... King Maric. Or at least that's what I was told."

My jaw dropped in shock.

"You... your..."

Alistair cringed and quickly cut in, "That is exactly the kind of reaction I didn't want to get. I've been resented or coddled my entire life because of this."

I collected myself and assured him, "No... This won't affect my opinion toward you... but why are you telling me this now?"

"You'd probably learn soon enough anyway," he explained. "The arl and several other people in the castle know it, and I'd prefer you learn from me. I just wanted to delay telling you as long as possible."

"I understand," I admitted. "I'll admit, I do have a slight distaste for the nobility that you might have been worried about. But I don't care about this. You act as different from the nobility I know as is possible. By that I mean you act _noble_."

He snickered briefly, then smiled.

"Good. I'm glad you understand. I just needed to tell you that."

"So, does this mean...?"

"That I'm the heir to the throne?" Alistair finished. "Maker, I hope not. I've been told for as long as I can remember that I'm a commoner not in line for the throne, and I'm a Grey Warden anyway. If anyone's the heir around here, it's Eamon. He's a noble, beloved by the people, and Cailan's uncle. That's why we need to find out about this sickness. It's worrying."

"There's really no one else in line for the throne?" I wondered.

"Besides the arl? Well..." He hesitated, then through gritted teeth admitted, "Hard as it is to admit, Loghain does have _some _claim. He's a teyrn, and his daughter's queen. Beyond that, Teyrn Cousland would be one of the best candidates, but I heard... dark whispers about him back at Lothering."

"Well, then the arl's our best bet, then," I said.

"Yes, we should move on, and you can keep acting like I'm just a nobody too lucky to die with the rest of the Wardens."

I smirked at him.

"You do realize the task we have ahead of us? Both of us nobodies might have been luckier if we had died."

That made him smile.

"You're not wrong. So, time to move on?"

I nodded, and was about to continue towards Redcliffe when I noticed Leliana furtively scribbling on a piece of parchment.

"Were you... writing down our conversation?" I questioned suspiciously.

Embarrassed, she replied, "Well, I am a minstrel and storyteller. This is fantastic stuff!" She stowed the paper, then quickly suggested. "Well, let's move on, then!"

Rolling my eyes, I told the group, "Let's go."

We moved forward to a short bridge across a river, where an archer wearing commoner clothing stood. When we approached, he desperately asked, "Well-armed travelers? Have you come to help us?"

"We came to see Arl Eamon... but what help do you need?" I asked.

"What help—Does no one out there know what's happening?" the man asked.

"Unless you're talking about the sickness of the arl, then no, they don't. I ask again, what help do you need?"

"The arl could be dead. We haven't heard from the castle in days, and every night, the village is attacked by monsters. The villager have been fighting and dying."

Morrigan remarked, "Apparently, the Blight is the perfect time for people to start killing each other. Marvelous."

"We've no soldiers, no arl, no king to defend us. I don't know how much longer we can hold out."

"What monsters have been attacking you?" Alistair inquired.

"I... don't exactly know. You'll have to speak with Bann Teagan. He's the only one keeping us alive right now. Come on," He said, indicating a path. We followed as he led us toward the village. He directed us into the chantry. It was full of untrained civilians and an atmosphere of fear and uncertainty.

At the back of the building stood a man who, unlike the rest, was heavily-armed and looked trained.

"Who are these people, Tomas?" the man asked the person who had escorted us.

"Travelers, ser. The say they need to see the arl."

"Well, that isn't an option right now, as Tomas has no doubt told you," he told our group.

"Teagan!" Alistair greeted warmly. "It's been a long time since I've seen you... and I was covered in mud at the time..."

"Mud...? Alistair! I was sure you had died!" Teagan replied.

"I'm still alive. No thanks to our _illustrious_ regent."

"Yes... Loghain has been very insistent that all the Wardens died, 'as they deserved'."

"Well, there are still a few of us left," I said.

He turned to me.

"You are a Warden as well, then? It is good to meet you, though the circumstances are regrettable. It will not be possible for you to see my brother, unfortunately. Not only was he deathly ill the last time I saw him, the castle is inaccessible at the moment. A few days ago, evil creatures began swarming from the castle. We pushed them back... for now... but the losses were great."

"Can you tell me anything more about these 'evil creatures'?" I asked.

"The undead. Half-rotted corpses possessed by demons. The attacks have been worse every night, and I fear we will not survive another." He turned to Alistair. "You and your companions must help if we are to have any chance of survival."

A little miffed, I interrupted, "No offense meant to either of you, but Alistair has chosen to defer to me." When Alistair gave me a worried look, I snapped, "Oh, for—Don't give me that look! Of course we're going to help them!"

Relieved, Alistair thanked me enthusiastically.

Less happy, Morrigan muttered, "Yes... The best use of our time and efforts is helping weak peasants fight a battle that none of us can win."

Ignoring that, Teagan told me, "Thank you! You have no idea how much that means to me—to all of us! Speak to the mayor, Murdock, in the town square, and Ser Perth, near the windmill, to help prepare for the battle."

Nodding, I turned to leave. After a few more ultimately irrelevant conversations with villagers, we exited the Chantry. As we reentered the village proper, Sten asked me a question.

"Is this truly wise? I don't see how helping these people aids us against the Blight."

"We need the arl's help."

"Against Loghain. Not the darkspawn."

"If we don't defeat Loghain, we won't be able to end the Blight."

"And why not?"

"Only Wardens can defeat the archdemon, and there are only two of us. With the entire Fereldan army after us, we can't risk trying to find it."

He paused, thinking.

"..Hmm. Your logic is acceptable. Lead on."

That settled, I turned my attention to the town square. Barricades had been set up around it, and a group of militiamen trained with bows. They were discussing the situation. The general feeling was "hopeless, but determined to fight nonetheless". Across the square, a red-haired men was talking with a militiaman. The soldier addressed him as Murdock, so I knew he was who I needed to talk to.

When I approached, Murdock said, "So. You're the Grey Warden I heard about. They said you were all dead."

"'They' also said that we killed King Cailan, but that's not true either."

"Well, regardless, we can't afford to turn down any help that you can offer. Name's Murdock, mayor of Redcliffe—or what's left of it—for now, at least. I can't say that I'm sure any of us will survive the night."

"You will. We'll make it through this, and we'll win."

He looked at me and laughed with a bitter edge.

"You say that with such conviction, I almost believe you. Anyway, you're here."

"Yes, I am. What do you need me to do to help?"

"We don't have that much armor and weapons, and even less that's serviceable. Owen, the blacksmith, could do the repairs, but he's locked himself up in the smithy and refused. Without him, half our troops will be fighting unarmed and unarmored."

"Why would he do that?" I asked, shocked.

"His daughter, Valena, was one of the arlessa's maids. When we lost contact with the castle, he demanded we attack it. I told him that wasn't possible, but he wouldn't listen. Maybe you can talk some sense into him."

"Understood. Anything else I can do?"

"Our militia could use more fighters. There's a veteran dwarf named Dwyn in the village, but he refuses to help."

"I'll try to talk with him. If there's nothing else, I should be going."

"Right. Let's hope we see morning."

We walked over to the blacksmithy. Our knocking on the door was met with dreary-sounding yelling.

"Go! You've already taken everything from me! Just leave me in peace!" the voice yelled.

"I haven't taken anything from you," I said, annoyed but trying to stay polite.

"Huh?" he wondered, confused. "You aren't Murdock. Who are you and why're you here?"

"I'll tell you, but I'd rather not yell through a door."

"Fine, fine." He unlocked the door, and we entered.

Lelliana's nose wrinkled.

"Ugh! It smells like a brewery got set on fire," she commented.

Ignoring that, Owen asked, "You wanted to talk; we're talking. Who are you?"

"The name's Mirevas. I'm a Grey Warden assisting in the defense of this village."

"A Warden, eh? Well, if you're helping defend this place, I guess you won't be joining me in drinking ourselves into a stupor. What do you want?"

"The militia needs your help. Without you repairing their gear, they don't stand a chance."

"Ha!" he replied bitterly. "Why should I help Murdock if he won't help me? Valena's trapped out there in the castle, and he won't send anyone to help her."

My temper flared, and I snapped, "Really?! How do you expect them to be able to save your daughter if they don't even have enough gear to hold off the undead?"

"I don't. We all know that none of us will make it through the night. Unless you think _you'll_ save us all?" he spat.

"Maybe I will! You make me sick. How could you just accept your fate like this? Your daughter's fate?"

The last part got to him.

"You almost sound like you believe that... Tell you what. I'll assist the militia with the repairs, but _you_ have to promise me that you'll go to the castle and find my daughter."

"Deal. I promise you that I'll find your daughter."

Morrigan loudly voiced her annoyance.

"Wonderful!" she said sarcastically. "Next, shall we begin saving kittens from trees?"

I glared at her furiously.

"Shut. Up. Now. We'll have to go to the castle anyway, and we're not refusing to help someone at almost no cost to ourselves just because _you_ don't approve."

"...fine," she sighed. "I will concede the point."

Owen began talking to himself.

"I'll need to relight the forge, and some iron..." He turned to me. "You tell Murdock to get his gear over here as soon as possible. I won't have you rescue my daughter only for me to die before I can see her. Now, we're burning daylight. I need to begin."

We left. We explored the village more and came upon a house, locked very securely. And when I say "very securely", I mean "so insecurely, one good kick was enough to break the lock", but that takes longer to say.

When we entered, a dwarf flanked by two facepainted humans addressed us.

"Who are you and why are you breaking and entering into my home?" he asked, maintaining calm.

"Proving a point. You're Dwyn, right?" To his affirmative nod, I responded, "You think that your defenses will keep out an undead horde? They couldn't even keep out one determined elf."

"Maybe, but I'll take my chances. They're better in here than out there."

"You think so? You don't think that there's any chance the defenders could win with you on their side?" When he shook his head, I grinned slyly, ran my fingers along my swords' hilts, and told him, "Well, I think you might not be considering all the possible dangers you face in here." I was bluffing, but he didn't know that.

"That's how it's going to be? Fine, I'll help Murdock, but I'd better see you out there too when the dead attack."

Smiling genuinely, I told him, "Good man."

"You haven't known me for long, have you? Let's go, men." He pointed to the door, and he and his men left.

I led the group back to Murdock, but not before finding a massive store of lamp oil in the general store.

"It looks like Owen's finally helping us," he said when we reached him. "Stupid bastard can make smithing look easy even when he can barely stand from the drink. Now we can give the undead bastards a good fight."

"A victory, not a fight," I insisted.

"Perhaps you're right. We're just villagers, but we'll fight like there's no tomorrow. If we don't win, there won't be. Thank you for getting Dwyn out here to fight. It's improved the men's morale to have a veteran. Between that and the repairs, the spirits are higher than I would have thought possible."

"I still need to talk to Ser Perth."

"Do it fast; there's not much daylight left. I... have a good feeling about tonight."

I led the group through the village to near the entrance, where we turned and climbed a hill leading to the windmill where the few knights were. During this time, I was mildly amused by a conversation between Morrigan and Leliana. Leliana made a few speculative comments regarding how Morrigan would look in a dress; Morrigan in turn was disturbed by Leliana's ogling of her. Before I talked to Ser Perth, I went and gathered a few flowers. They reminded me visually of the flowers from the Wilds that had saved Dane's life. They also smelled quite nice...

Anyway, after that, we went to Ser Perth.

"I understand you are the Grey Warden who will help us. I am relieved to see you... I must admit, I am unsure of how to address an elf in your position."

I considered briefly, then decided it was ignorance, not malice, that drove his questioning.

"I am a Warden. All in the Wardens are equal. Kind of like the Chantry, only the Wardens mean it. Just call me Mirevas."

"I understand. I am Ser Perth, formerly direct servant to Arl Eamon. If I had not sought out the Urn of Sacred Ashes, I may have been able to hold off the evil that befalls us now."

"Or you may have died," I interrupted.

"Indeed. Regardless, with two Grey Wardens helping us, we may stand a chance. Is there anything else you can offer in that regard?"

"I found a large amount of lamp oil in the general store. Perhaps there's something you could do with that. The undead still burn, right?"

"I am not sure. Nonetheless, we should try. I'll send a few men to collect it. Now, perhaps there is something you can do for us. My men are equipped as well as they could be expected to, but if it was possible for Mother Hannah to offer them some form of holy protection, it would help a great deal."

"...what? Are your men not confident enough in their chances of victory that you need to lie to them to keep their morale up?"

Somewhat offended, Perth replied, "It would not be-"

"I understand where you're coming from, but the Chantry can't help. The Chantry doesn't even claim to be able to influence the Maker. If He is with you, then He is, and if He is not, then nothing the mother does can change that."

"I understand, ser. I don't like it, but I understand. In that case, unless there's anything else you can do to help Murdock, then we're as prepared as we'll ever be."

"I am ready. Let's wait."

The few hours left until night seemed to slip away and creep forward at the same time. I could almost smell the fear through the village, but I told myself that together, we would win. My party went through those hours differently. Alistair, Sten, and I went to the town square to practice with the militia. Leliana prayed for victory. Morrigan sulked, rolled her eyes, and complained that we were wasting our time. When she realized no one was listening, she switched to instead belittling Alistair on his weapon form, parental status, and intelligence—so nothing much new. It made Alistair a bit angry, but it didn't seem to hurt his form.

When the sun finally set, we and the knights set up below the hill leading into the village. In front of us had been set up a barricade, with barrels of oil set up below.

"It's time!" Ser Perth exclaimed. "We fight for our arl, for the Maker, and for our people!"

As if on cue, a group of walking corpses charged down the hill. I motioned forward, and Morrigan launched a bolt of fire toward the barricade. She may not have liked what we were doing, but she was still going to fight. The barrels exploded into fire, igniting the oil that had been poured around them. Three corpses were immediately caught in the fire and incinerated. Smiling viciously, I charged forward, ran up the side of a barricade, and leaped into a large group of the undead. I felled one in the initial jump, then slaughtered a few more with one brutal dual-weapon sweep. After sustaining a few hard hits from the corpses' maces, I ducked away and ran around the fire. While they were chasing me, three arrows rapidly entered one of the undead from Leliana and another fell to a blast of lightning. When I moved past the fire, I paused to catch my breath. The undead had to either trickle through or immolate themselves in the fire. While I rested, Alistair and Sten took up positions on the chokepoints between the fire and the sides of the path. They each cut down a few corpses before there was a brief lull in the swarm. I took advantage of the pause to organize the defenders. I set up the knights in a defensive line just past the fire barrier. My group stood on the other side—Morrigan and Leliana stayed back, and Sten, Alistair, Dane, and I assumed defensive positions further ahead. Ahead of even us, Morrigan set up several glyphs of paralysis.

A renewed wave of walking corpses charged forward. The melee fighters briefly parted ranks to allow Leliana to shoot a rapid barrage of arrows into the temporarily paralyzed undead horde. When they reached us, we closed ranks again and began cutting through corpses. Alistair used his shield to break the darkspawn lines, and Sten carved through several corpses with each massive swing of his greatsword. I dealt with the leftovers with rapid flurries and swings. The few stragglers who manged to slip past our defensive line were quickly struck down by arrows and blasts of electricity and negative energy. Despite the relative ease that we fought with, we were gradually pushed back by the dozens of undead that poured through. When there was another lull, I heard a yell from back behind the barricade.

I turned and waded through the piles of redead bodies to address the messenger.

"There are corpses coming from the lakes! They're attacking the barricades!" he told me desperately.

"Let's go!" I called to my party. Then, to the knights, I yelled, "You can hold off the corpses, right?"

Laughing, Ser Perth responded, "We haven't fought yet, Warden! We'll be fine!"

Satisfied, I followed the messenger, running down the path towards the town square. Unlike the unbreakable defensive line blocking the undead from the path, this was a wild, brutal, close-range melee. The militia fought here, and though they were notably less confident than the knights, they fought well, and none had fallen.

I charged into the fray, cutting down two undead on the way. I ducked in and out of combat, re-slaying corpses while they were distracted. More fell from precisely placed arrows. Leliana's skill was truly impressive; she was able to fell undead without coming close to hitting any of the militia. Alistair moved into the fight and attracted the corpses' attention with a taunting war cry. Morrigan wisely decided not to attract undue attention from the villagers by shapeshifting and stayed back with energy blasts from her staff. Soon, there were no undead in the square. Many more waves crawled from the lake onto the docks and shambled toward us, but with the archers focused in the right direction, and Alistair, Sten, and I keeping the walking corpses busy at a distance, they fell quickly. Assisted by us, the militia was able to hold off the undead swarming toward them, and dozens, maybe hundreds, fell to our steel and spells. Eventually, whether it be because there were no more undead or whatever force controlled them gave up, the dead stopped pouring in. They slowed to a trickle, and finally stopped completely.

Several hours later, the militia, knights, and villagers gathered in front of the chantry, and to raucous cheering, Bann Teagan announced, "Dawn arrives, friends, and all of us remain! We are victorious!"

* * *

**AN**: Big thanks to Pintsizedpsycho and SharpRevan for their reviews!


	11. 10: Redcliffe Castle, Pt 1

**Chapter 10: Redcliffe Castle, Part 1  
**

"Is all of this really true?" Cassandra asked. "It's known that Redcliffe was defended from undead, and you helped, but for you to have had such a _large_ impact on the battle..."

Smirking, Mirevas replied, "Well, that's the basic story, and it's accurate. If you asked me to tell you the gory details of each corpse I returned to death, then that might be a little bit less accurate."

"It's just... you talk like you singlehandedly held off an undead horde from destroying a village. That seems... implausible."

"I fight with both hands, Seeker. I was also assisted by four people, a dog, and, you know, a militia and a dozen or so knights. I, and my party, merely had a disproportionate role in the fight. Now, you interrupted me mid-congratulations!"

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Redcliffe village

"We have these men and women to thank for our village's defense. Without them, we surely would have perished. Truly, the Maker must have sent you to help us."

I silenced Morrigan's scathing reply with a cautionary glance and then accepted Teagan's offer of a reward—a helm that belonged to his great-uncle, Ser Ferris the Red. Then Mother Hannah offered a blessing for the people who had given their lives to defend Redcliffe in the preceding days.

When she was done, Teagan told the cheering crowd, "With this mighty blow we have dealt the undead, I believe we can return to the castle and find the arl!" To me, he said, "Meet me at the mill as soon as possible."

I'm pretty sure that as I cooperated with his request, I had this huge, stupid, proud smile on my face. I was a bit tired, both from exertion and lack of sleep, but still triumphant and buzzing with energy. Looking around, I saw that Alistair and Leliana looked similar to me, Sten was as indiscernible as ever, and Morrigan just looked annoyed. I decided this was as good a time as any to needle her.

"So. Morrigan. _Not_ a hopeless battle after all."

"Hopeless? Perhaps 'twas not. An overlong waste of time, helping weaklings escape a fate they deserved, it _certainly_ was," she shot back. "'Tis the past now, regardless. Keep talking of it if you wish, but I care not."

"Hmm..." I kept walking, and soon we had returned to the windmill, where Bann Teagan was standing, looking across Lake Calenhad at Redcliffe Castle.

When I approached, he turned to face me.

"Odd how peaceful the castle seems, given all that has happened there," he mused. "I have a plan to get us inside. Here, in the windmill, there is a secret passage to the castle known only to the family."

"You never used it before?" I puzzled.

"I would have, had I ever felt the village was safe. After all, I had no idea what manner of monster might- What?" He cut himself off, shifting his gaze past me at a pair of approaching figures.

One of the people rushing toward us was a woman wearing a high-quality but bedraggled noble dress. The other was a man in full armor, presumably a guard.

"Teagan! Thank the Maker you live!" the woman said, out of breath, when she reached Teagan. I disliked her almost immediately, for several reasons: 1) Noble's clothing. 2) Shrill, annoying voice. 3) _Very_ annoying Orlesian accent. 4) Orlesian.

"Isolde?" Teagan asked. "What are you doing here? I thought you were still trapped in the castle."

That explained things a bit. She was Isolde, Eamon's wife. Now, I was willing to give here the benefit of the doubt. Eamon was, by all accounts, a good man, so I assumed he must have pretty good judgment.

"I was trapped in the castle. There is not enough time to explain, but I must return, Teagan, and you must come with me... alone."

Her ignorance of me me annoyed me slightly, but a greater act of apathy made me actually angry.

"Really?" I asked hostilely. "You don't have the slightest care for what's happened to Redcliffe? Aren't you supposed to be one of its rulers? Dozens of people are dead!"

Miffed, she looked at me, said, "What?" and asked Teagan, "Who is this man, Teagan?" It was about then that I realized how annoying her voice was.

Awkwardly, Alistair put forward, "Uh... You remember _me_, don't you, Lady Isolde?"

"What? … Alistair? What are _you _doing here?"

Putting the conversation back on track, Teagan told her, "These men... women... dog... are Grey Wardens and their companions, to whom I owe my life."

"I... I am sorry. I would exchange pleasantries, but..." She cut herself off and turned to Teagan. "There is no time. We must return to the castle—There is a great evil there. The dead awaken and haunt the living-"

"We _know_ that!" I interrupted. "The dead have been 'haunting' this village for days! If we weren't here, the village could already have been destroyed."

After giving me a withering glare, she turned back to Teagan.

"As I was saying, the mage responsible has been caught, but it has not stopped! And I am worried for Connor. He refuses to flee. I am worried he is going mad! Teagan, you are his uncle. If anyone could reason with him..."

"You're his _mother_," Teagan pointed out. "If you can't-"

"_Please!_"

"Wait," I interjected. "What's this about a mage?"

"We found him... an infiltrator. He poisoned Eamon on, he claims, Teyrn Loghain's orders."

Ignoring Teagan's shocked outburst, I asked, "So he poisoned Eamon. Why does that mean he's responsible for the undead as well? I doubt Loghain, usurper as he is, would condone the senseless destruction of a village."

"Well... what other explanation is there?" she rationalized.

To Teagan and my party, I said, "Maybe it's just my healthy distrust of all things noble, but I don't entirely buy her story."

"W...what?! How dare you lay such an impertinent accusation?"

Annoyed, I replied, "Well, it's only impertinent if it's wrong."

With genuine anguish in her voice, she asked, "What more can I tell you? My husband and son are being held by an unfathomable evil force!"

"What is this 'unfathomable evil' you speak of?" Teagan asked, far more gently than I would have.

"I... do not know. It is something the mage unleashed. It has killed... many people, and corrupted their bodies to do its will. It has, for now, allowed Eamon, Connor and I to live, but I must return quickly!"

"Hmm..." I gave a noncommittal shrug, and indicated Teagan.

"I will return to the castle with you, Isolde. My brother is needed now more than ever."

Almost crying, Isolde thanked Teagan greatly. He asked her to give us a moment in private before they returned to the castle.

As Isolde rushed off to the bridge to wait, Teagan turned to us.

"I make no assumptions about my ability to defeat this evil. Your group, on the other hand, has proven itself a dozen times over. Here is what I propose: I will go with Isolde to the castle, to distract and placate this evil. Meanwhile, you go through the secret passage and attack from below."

"That's it? Five people and a dog against this unspecified 'great evil'?" I asked incredulously.

"Not quite. If you can open the gates, Ser Perth and his knights will be waiting by the entrance to help you. I don't think anyone else can help here. Here, take my signet ring. It will open the passageway." After handing me the ring, he continued, "Remember. Eamon is the only priority. If necessary, Isolde, me, anyone else in the castle—all expendable."

"It won't come to that," I responded.

"And if it does?"

"It _won't_. But if it does, I know what I have to do."

Satisfied, he went to Isolde, and they crossed to the castle.

Meanwhile, my group entered the windmill and went through the secret passageway. Well, more "locked" than "secret", as it was a trapdoor right out in the—I'm getting off topic. Moving on.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Redcliffe Castle, basement

We emerged from the tunnel—really quite a marvel, as it ran completely under Lake Calenhad—into the basement of Redcliffe Castle. Well, I say "basement". "Dungeon" might be a better word. It smelled of sweat and fear.

I opened the door to the small chamber we had ended up in to see a long room flanked by cells, mostly empty. Across the room, a small group of corpses were banging their maces on the bars of a cell, to the protests of its inhabitant. When they saw us, they began lumbering in our direction.

Thankfully, the undead aren't very strong. Or fast. Or smart. Suffice it to say, the group of three fell, riddled with arrows, before they even reached us.

I paused to give Leliana an approving look, then moved toward the sole inhabited cell. In it was a half-starved-looking man in mage robes. When he saw me, he had shock in his eyes. Said eyes had a dead, drained look to them before he saw me.

"There's someone alive out there? You don't look like the arlessa's guards. Are you from outside?"

"My answer depends on who you are," I responded.

"My name is Jowan, a mage hired by Lady Isolde to tutor her son, Connor. Well, I was, until I was thrown into this dungeon."

Two things intrigued me in those sentences. I wrestled a bit with what to start with, but ended up deciding on, "You're a mage? Are you the one Isolde talked about, who she says released the evil?"

"Yes... and no. I admit, it was me who poisoned the arl. I'm not proud of it. But I didn't cause all of these corpses being raised! Isolde had already imprisoned me by then. I didn't even know about them until she came to me, demanding I reverse what I'd done, which I assumed was referring to poisoning the arl. When I told her I didn't know what she was talking about, I was... tortured. Nothing I could say, nothing I could do would make the pain go away. Eventually, they just gave up and left me here to rot."

_One question at a time,_ I thought.

"Why did you poison the arl?" I asked neutrally. I already moved past the "this man is a complete monster" stage.

"Teyrn Loghain instructed me to. I was told Eamon was a threat to all of Ferelden, and I'd be a hero! Then Loghain would help settle matters with the Circle."

"What matters?" I asked tentatively.

"Well... I'm a maleficar. A blood mage. I was condemned to death by the Circle for dabbling in forbidden magics, and I thought this would be a chance to redeem myself. But now... Loghain's abandoned me, and everything's fallen apart! I have to help fix this."

After thinking for a moment, I inquired, "Why is it that you said that you want to redeem yourself but also said you _are_ a maleficar?"

"I... what?"

"Well, if blood magic was what you wanted redemption for, then wouldn't you say you _were_ a maleficar?"

"There were... bad things that happened because of me. But now is neither the time nor place."

Deciding not to press further, I backtracked.

"Fair enough. So Teyrn Loghain himself hired you to do this?"

"Yes. He came to see me personally when I was in Denerim awaiting execution. He said I could help Ferelden, and he would help me. I was unsure about the job, but when one of the greatest heroes in Fereldan history says you can help the country... Well, I was convinced."

"Hmm. I can understand that. Well... I've been meaning to ask... if Isolde wanted a mage to secretly tutor her son, does that mean...?"

"Yes," Jowan replied. "Connor had begun showing early signs of magic, and Isolde was terrified at the idea of him being taken away to the Circle. So she sought an apostate to teach him, outside the view of both the Chantry and his father."

"Wait... even _Eamon_ didn't know?"

"No. Eamon was too honorable. He would choose to do the right thing rather than keep his son. Isolde couldn't let that happen."

"What would make her so opposed to people knowing he was a mage?"

"He would be taken away forever and permanently disinherited. She was also... somewhat ashamed. She is a pious woman, and it would be an embarrassment for her to have a mage child.

Throughout the last twenty seconds or so, rage had begun boiling inside me. Then it boiled over.

"That spineless, self-centered, inadvertently-murderous bitch! She..." I took a breath. "Wait. I'll save my rage for when I'm better-informed. How did these corpses begin rising? Do you know?"

"I believe Connor may have accidentally torn the Veil. He is young and unskilled in magic, but I am worried his grief may have allowed him to perform more powerful magic by accident."

"Where was I? Oh, yeah. She endangered her family, her castle, and her entire fucking village because of her selfish attachment and vanity! How could anyone care so little about other people? Okay, I think I'm done for now."

"Please," Jowan pleaded. "Let me help fix this."

I turned to my companions.

"Let the boy help us," Morrigan suggested, "and if you will not, I would say let him go."

"Whoa! Let's keep in mind that he's a blood mage!" Alistair objected.

"So?" Morrigan replied scathingly. "Who are you to judge him for his choices? Alistair the Grey Warden, sworn to defeat the Blight at all costs? Or Alistair the templar, sworn to blindly follow Chantry doctrine?"

Before the argument could escalate, Leliana cut in, "Everyone deserves a chance at redemption, no?"

"But he's a _blood mage_!" Alistair continued to object.

I turned to Sten, who had remained silent.

"He is bas saarebas, and practices forbidden arts. Be merciful and slay him now," was the Qunari's taciturn suggestion.

"Please, just give me a chance!"

Agonizing over the choice, I eventually said, "All right. What harm can come from giving him a chance?"

"A lot," Alistair chimed in.

"A great deal," Sten intoned at roughly the same time. Both tolerated the decision, however.

"So you're letting me out?" Jowan breathed disbelievingly. "What then?"

"You'll help. If you can fight, follow me. If you can't, find me when I've cleared out the undead. Or I'll find _you_."

"Understood," he agreed.

I began sizing up the lock.

"You can pick locks?" Leliana asked. "I can help if you need it..."

"Nah..." I smirked. Then, with one hard swing, I broke off the lock. Pointing at my main hand sword, I told her, "_This_ is my lockpick."

Glancing around, as if he couldn't believe he was free, Jowan told me, "I'll just follow a bit behind you. I _can_ fight, if pressed, but torture and malnutrition tend to hurt your fighting ability."

Nodding, a bit suspicious, I turned and led the group further through the dungeons. In a chamber a bit further, while we were investigating briefly, a group of bodies came to life and attacked us.

I was backed into a corner by a pair because of the way they rose. I sustained a few hard hits to the side before disarming one, dis_arming_ the other, then finished them both through a wide slash at neck level. That wouldn't have worked against normal humans, but corpses have remarkably soft flesh and bone.

After I took a moment to catch my breath, I saw that the rest of the group had been re-slain. Breathing gingerly, I ascended a flight of stairs to the main floor.

The main floor was far more opulent than the basement/dungeon, as one might expect. It was decorated, for one, and there were several overly fancy rugs scattered about. I was especially surprised when I found an entire full-sized chantry. It made sense, given that the castle was separated from the village, but still—a whole chantry for one building!

Anyway, that chantry was where I first fought demons—a group of shades, to be precise. It was quite an experience. The first time I swung my sword and felt it pass through the shade—a feeling more like drawing a blade through thick syrup than living flesh—unnerved me, but also motivated me to fight harder. The fight was also more dangerous, as arrows were more likely to pass through their targets. Nevertheless, through determination, the demons were eventually felled.

Further into the castle, we fought undead in a living room, the barracks, and a large group in the kitchens, but simple groups of corpses were no longer significant danger, so I'll spare you the tedious details.

Eventually, after we were blocked by a locked door, we cut through a cellar to reach the courtyard. Here was a particularly difficult fight—about fifteen corpses and one of the terrifying monsters called revenants. Have you ever fought a revenant, Seeker? If not, I _really_ don't suggest it.

A revenant doesn't look much different from a reanimated corpse, save for its size and higher-quality armor, but it fights with the strength of at least ten men. It hits hard, can take a lot of damage, and has this weird ability to stab the ground and pull enemies toward it with its mind.

The undead were a non-issue—Sten alone could slay two or three with one swing of his massive greatsword. Soon all the corpses were once again dead. But the revenant was not, and we underestimated it. Alistair charged toward it, shield ready, only to tumble uncontrollably toward it after it used its pull attack. I also was knocked off my feet, as was Morrigan in her spider form. Sten managed to stand his ground, and Leliana was far enough away that the shock wave was less severe. As I attempted to stand, the monster hit me with a hard slash from its blade. It was not a dangerous wound, but the slash had cut cleanly through my metal armor. Wary, I adopted a defensive stance emphasizing agility and mobility. After a few dangerously close blows, we finally manged to defeat the revenant through a mixture of attrition and dagger and arrow strikes into armor gaps.

Only after the monster had been slain did I turn to see Ser Perth and his knights, standing behind a portcullis, clamoring for me to pull a lever to open the gate.

After letting out a stream of colorful swears in at least two languages, I went to pull the lever.

"Are you all right?" Ser Perth immediately asked, concerned.

"...Fine," I gasped. "So... You're here to help us, right? The main hall is... right over there..." I made a halfhearted gesture toward said hall.

"Yes. We are eager to see our arl again. Shall we enter the main hall together?"

Catching my breath, I responded, "Yes. Let's... do that..."

"Good. Then let us see what awaits us..."

This is where things got even _more_ interesting... and creepy... but mostly interesting!

* * *

**AN**: Thanks to Pintsizedpsycho and SharpRevan for the reviews!


	12. 11: Redcliffe Castle, Pt 2

**Chapter 11: Redcliffe Castle, Part 2**

** AN**: Sorry for the shorter length. In hindsight, this really didn't need to be split.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Redcliffe Castle, main hall

As the group went through the main entrance, we were greeted by a strange sight. Teagan had a blank smile on his face and was performing some sort of dance that seemed far too acrobatic for someone wearing such heavy armor. Onlooking him were Isolde, wearing a hopeless, miserable expression, and a young boy, with an expression too hard and cruel to ever belong on a child's face. When Teagan finished with a flourish, the boy turned his gaze to me, with an expression closer to annoyance than anger.

"These are our _visitors_?" he asked Isolde arrogantly. A faint, evil echo rang in his speech. "The ones who killed the soldiers I sent to reclaim my village?"

"Y-yes, Connor," Isolde replied shakily.

"What is it? I can't see enough."

"It is an elf, Connor. You have seen them in the palace..."

"Oh, yes!" the boy recalled, a dark smile crossing his face. "I had their ears cut off and fed to the dogs! Shall I send it to the kennels?"

I shuddered involuntarily. Ears are very sensitive to us physically. It's part of both their size and our heightened senses. The pain of having them cut off would be unimaginable. And if the elves were still alive to see them chewed on... Well. Not a fun thought.

As Isolde attempted to dissuade Connor from hurting anyone, I angrily interrupted her.

"So, Connor is the 'evil force' that caused all this? This is your fault!"

She turned to me and her frightened face hardened.

"H...how dare you? How _dare_ you say such a thing?"

Before I could answer, Connor face softened and in a quieter, echoless voice, he asked, "M-mother? Where am I?"

Looking extremely relieved, Isolde replied, "Connor? Connor! Can you hear me?"

Pushing her away, Connor commanded, "Get away, fool woman. You begin to bore me," in the echoing voice.

"What has happened?" Ser Perth asked in shock.

"Please..." Isolde begged, "do not hurt my son. It is not his fault."

"I don't want to hurt him. He's a mostly innocent child. But I will if I have to, and if so, it will be _your_ fault," I replied contemptuously.

"Why do you keep saying that?" she implored. "This isn't my fault, or his fault. It's that mage. He summoned this demon. Connor only wanted to save his father."

Sharing my contempt, Morrigan pointed out, "Even if that is true, the boy still made a deal with a demon."

"It was fair!" the Connor-demon interrupted. "Father is alive, and now I can send my armies out to conquer the world! No one can tell me what to do!"

I stared at him blankly. If he hadn't been inhabiting the body of a child, I would have struck down the demon there and then, just for being so dumb.

"But regardless! I can be civil. The elf will have the audience he seeks. What is it you came here for?"

"I came here to find Arl Eamon."

"Why didn't you just say?" the demon asked, with a note of either sarcasm or annoyance in his voice. "All of this sneaking around and killing is so unnecessary. But Father is still seriously ill. No one can see him. Right, Mother?"

Hesitantly, Isolde responded, "Well, Connor... I..."

"Bah. Whatever. All you have done is deprived me of my fun. But no longer!"

He turned and ran toward the door, and Isolde chased after him. Teagan, as well as half a dozen knights, began charging toward us.

"Non-lethal, if you can!" I yelled quickly.

Morrigan swiftly cast a few paralysis glyphs on the ground between us and the charging knights. This let us gain the advantage. Alistair limited himself to shield bashes and defense. I ducked next to Teagan and wrenched the shield out of his hands by hooking it with my blades. Ser Perth and _his _knights were able to fight quite competently with the flats of their blades, and Sten could deal blows that I wasn't quite sure were nonlethal. Regardless, soon, all the ensorcelled knights were incapacitated or unconscious save Teagan. After he was knocked to the ground and took a significant blow to the head, he shakily stood up, his eyes once again sharp.

"I... I think... my mind is my own again," he breathed.

"Oh, thank the Maker!" Isolde gasped. "If something had happened to you..."

"Then that would _also_ have been your fault," I cut in unsympathetically.

On the verge of tears, she pleaded, "Fine! Blame me! Just don't blame Connor. He's not responsible. There must be some way to save him!"

"I agree with you. Well, in this instance. But you knew about this the whole time, and you didn't tell anyone."

"I... assumed that if you knew, you would simply kill Connor. But I know that's not necessary! He can still be saved!"

Around then, Jowan caught back up with us. He walked in just as Isolde finished her previous statement.

"That may be true. But your son is an abomination now," he said gravely.

"You!" she practically screamed when she saw him. "This is all _your _fault! You summoned this demon! I hired you to help, and you tried to murder my husband!"

"I did _not_ summon this demon!" Jowan insisted.

"This is the mage you were talking about?" Teagan asked. "Didn't you say he was captured?"

"He _was_," she spat. "I assumed he was dead, killed by the monsters. But he must have been freed somehow."

"That would be me," I said. "He's the one who told me about how all of this was your fault. How dozens of people died from your selfishness and vanity. And he promised to help us."

"It was his poison that started all of this! He should be executed!"

"Isolde," Teagan cut in, both firmly and gently. "You were the one who hired him, were you not? To train Connor in secret?"

"Well... I thought that if he could learn just enough to keep hidden, then... I couldn't just let him be taken away forever!"

"And then the arl was poisoned, Connor summoned a demon, and an undead army marched on Redcliffe."

Her face fell and her head dropped.

"Yes."

I looked at Jowan and motioned for him to speak.

"The demon possessing Connor must be destroyed. That's not up for debate, I gather. The easiest way to do that would be to kill him... but that's not the _only_ way. There is a ritual that I can perform to allow another mage to enter the Fade and confront the demon there. I can't be completely certain that Connor will come out unscathed, but I think it's our only option."

"What's the catch?" I asked skeptically.

"Well... The ritual is very consuming of mana. Normally it would be performed by several mages aided by a significant amount of lyrium, but unless you can find those... I have blood magic."

"Blood magic?" I asked hesitantly. "What exactly are you talking about here?"

"Well... lyrium would normally provide power for the ritual, but I know how to use life force instead. But... a _lot_ of life force. All of it."

"So... someone must die?" Teagan asked.

"Yes. It's not much of an option, but you asked."

I sighed, then pondered for a moment.

"No. It won't end this way," I finally stated. "There has to be another way."

"I don't think so," Jowan said. "It's lyrium or blood."

Isolde offered up her life to save her son, saying that Connor was blameless and did not deserve to die. I commend her for having at least that much bravery. But that wasn't enough for me. Isolde was selfish, kind of a bitch, and accidentally responsible for death, but she didn't deserve to die for it.

"So lyrium then," I ended up saying. "Why isn't that an option?"

"What about the Circle Tower?" Alistair asked. "There are mages and lyrium there, if they would agree to help us. And it's just across the lake from here."

"Don't we have to recruit the mages anyway?" I pointed out. "It works out well."

"The tower is only about a day's travel from here by boat," Teagan admitted. "But what will happen here in the meantime? Surely Connor will not remain passive forever."

"That... is quite a risk," I admitted. "Isn't there anything we can do?"

Sten immediately stepped forward.

"I will stay. I have no desire to enter a tower full of saarebas. I will not hesitate to strike down the child saarebas if I must."

Though both Teagan and Isolde looked worried at Sten's seeming utter willingness to kill Connor, they both agreed that it was better than not even taking the chance.

"Then it is decided," Teagan said. "You must leave at once. The longer you delay, the more chance of disaster. Jowan will stay here. If he truly wishes to help, he can start by helping us keep watch on Connor."

I paused for a moment. An idea had been formulating in my head since I met Jowan.

"Speaking of that," I told Teagan, "I would like to speak with Jowan."

Teagan hesitantly nodded assent, then gave us privacy.

"Do you truly regret what you did here?" I asked Jowan.

"Of course I do. Why?"

"Do you truly wish to seek redemption?"

"If I didn't, wouldn't I have simply fled?"

"And you said that you can fight?"

"..if I must. Again, why do you ask?"

"Do you want to take a more personal role in helping?"

"What?" Jowan asked, shocked. "Even if I did, there's no way I would be allowed to."

"You'd be surprised. I'm one of the last Grey Wardens in Ferelden, and we need all the help we can get. If I were to recruit you, they would have to let you go with me, no questions asked."

"What?!" Alistair interrupted. "You can't seriously be considering recruiting a blood mage and attempted murderer!"

"You made no objection to _Sten_'s recruitment," Morrigan pointed out drily.

"That was different!" Alistair objected.

"What, because _this_ man practices a form of magic the Chantry looks down on?" she shot back. "What happened to 'fighting the Blight by any means necessary'?"

"I... Fine." He backed down.

"As long as that's started, what do you guys think?" I asked the rest of my party.

"I think it is a good thing," Leliana chimed in. "He desires redemption, and deserves the chance to earn it. Everyone should get a second chance."

Sten looked much less pleased.

"He is bas saarebas. I would be surprised if there is not already a demon inside him."

At that, Jowan looked offended and almost angry.

"There is _no _demon inside me! I have never consorted with any sort of spirit," he insisted forcefully.

Looking almost impressed, Sten turned to me and said, "I am sworn to follow you. It is your decision."

Satisfied, I turned to Jowan.

"And what do _you _have to say? Will you fight with us? Will you earn your redemption against the Blight?"

Looking overwhelmed, Jowan replied, "I... If you will have me, I will gladly fight beside you!"

"Good." I called Teagan back into the room.

"I take it your conversation is finished? You must make haste to the tower."

"We will be leaving. And Jowan will be joining us."

"_What?!_" Teagan almost yelled.

I faced Jowan.

"Jowan, I hereby invoke the Rite of Conscription. You are now a recruit of the Grey Wardens until such a time as you can join fully."

Shocked, Teagan muttered, "And of course, _I'm_ the one left explaining this to Isolde." Then, to me, he said, "Fine. That is your right, and I certainly won't defy the man to whom I owe my life. I just hope you've thought about this." He walked away, shaking his head slightly.

"Are you sure you want to recruit me _now_?" Jowan asked uncertainly. "You are, after all, going to the tower from which I escaped, and the templars will certainly not be happy to see a known apostate and maleficar."

This gave me pause, but I quickly decided, "Yes. The mages _and _templars need to respect the Wardens and the treaties. This will just give them a head start."

"If you're sure..." he replied hesitantly.

So, Seeker, time for you to yell at me so much my head explodes?

* * *

**AN**: My first major divergence from canon! Also, as usual, thanks to Pintsizedpsycho and SharpRevan for the reviews.


	13. 12: On Lake Calenhad

**Chapter 12: On Lake Calenhad**

9:39 Dragon

City of Amaranthine

"_What?!_"

Yes, Cassandra was quite livid.

"_What_ what?" Mirevas asked, smirking.

"I had heard the rumors of the Hero of Ferelden working with an apostate maleficar, but I assumed they were just rumors. Of course people would say that; they've said everything else. But it's true?"

"Not exactly," was Mirevas' annoyed response. "Apostate yes, blood mage yes, but few who have met Jowan would call him a maleficar."

"'Blood mage' and 'maleficar' mean the same thing-"

"No, they don't, and I'm tired of people thinking that. The Chant never says that _blood_ magic specifically makes one a maleficar. It says that magic should not rule over man, and it says that those who 'turn the Maker's gift against his children' are maleficarum. Jowan definitely never tried to rule anyone, and he wouldn't hurt a fly if it didn't deserve it. Ugh... I'm not going to change your mind just talking. Let me continue the story, and if you still want to judge Jowan at the end, _I'm_ clearly not going to ever change your mind."

* * *

9:30 Dragon

The middle of Lake Calenhad, in a boat

I left Redcliffe castle immediately... Well, almost immediately. I still needed to go find Valena, the smith's daughter, so I did so. A few hours later, we were sailing across Lake Calenhad toward the Kinloch Hold docks.

I was not comfortable. The thing about living in a city your whole life is that you expect the ground under your feet to stay still. I wasn't, and am not, a boat sort of person. Jowan and I were talking.

"So. Explain to me why we can't go directly to the tower?" I asked Jowan.

"It's pretty simple. There is one boat connecting Kinloch Hold to the rest of Ferelden. If the templars see someone coming to the tower from any other way, they'll assume hostility and attack on sight."

"Seriously?" I muttered.

"Things used to be more lax. Then someone escaped by swimming across the lake."

Incredulously, I wondered, "Across the... What? How is that even possible?"

"Extreme motivation and maybe a bit of magic."

"_That _takes dedication," I said, impressed.

"Yes. Anders is a bit of a legend among the more rebellious of the Circle mages. He's escaped something like five or six times, but it's never stuck. I think before I... left... he was currently escaped."

"A month ago, escaped mages would've terrified me. Now... good on him! Well, I mean, he isn't _evil_, is he?"

"I can't speak for his character, but if he practiced blood magic or demon summoning, the templars would've killed him on sight."

"Mmm... Speaking of which, since we've a while before we reach the docks, tell me more about your past."

He sighed.

"I suppose this was bound to come up... All right, first things first, I learned blood magic from a book, not a demon. I've never even talked to a demon."

"What? How did you learn blood magic from a book?"

"Well... You read the book and follow the instructions it gives..."

"No. I meant, _where_ did you find a book like that in a Circle?"

"Oh. I... found it. Er, stole it. They do keep those sorts of things around, to reference, if you know where to look. Anyway, I imagine you want to know the circumstances behind my escape? Well... I was... in a relationship with a Chantry initiate. It was extremely forbidden—she was sworn to celibacy, and I was a mage. But I loved Lily, and I thought she loved me. Unfortunately, my blood magic had become known—as a rumor, but it was enough. I saw the papers that had been sent, permitting the Rite of Tranquility."

"What's the Rite of Tranquility?" I inquired.

"It's a ritual performed on mages who are deemed too dangerous, or those who choose not to undergo the Harrowing—a ritual used as a mage rite of passage. Tranquility cuts a mage off from the Fade, rendering him immune to demon possession at the cost of his magic, emotions, and dreams."

That was definitely enough to make me forget my lack of sea legs.

"_What?!_ How could that ever be justified?" I demanded. "That's sla—no, worse than slavery! At least slaves still have freedom in their minds."

"The Chantry considers it just, thus it _is_ just," Jowan remarked bitterly. "They consider it a mercy, actually. It allows mages who they think will be too weak to resist demon possession a chance to be 'productive members of society'. But we were talking of my past, right?

"After I learned of the plans to make me Tranquil, I decided that Lily and I had to escape, and she agreed. I enlisted the help of my best friend, Daylen, to find and destroy my phylactery. A phylactery is a vial of blood used by the templars to track escaped mages."

"A vial of... That's blood magic, isn't it?"

"The Chantry doesn't consider it such."

"Somehow I'm not surprised. Hypocritical bastards. What happened with your phylactery?"

"Daylen had just been Harrowed. As a full mage, he had more privileges, and we were able to reach the chamber where my phylactery was and destroy it. Unfortunately, before we could get out, we were confronted by the knight-commander and first enchanter, along with a roomful of templars. Greagoir, the knight-commander, sentenced me to death and Lily to imprisonment in Aeonar—the mage's prison. I wanted to protect her, so I used blood magic to knock down all the templars." He sighed deeply. "It didn't matter. When she saw me use blood magic, she rejected me. She would rather face Aeonar than be with a blood mage. So I ran. Like a coward. And left my best friend to face Maker-knows-what fate. Then a few weeks later, I was captured by the templars anyway. Loghain found me in Denerim and the rest you know."

"That's..." I paused. "You know, let's finish this conversation when I have stable ground under my feet again. I can't make proper comments like this."

"Fair enough. I suppose that now, I actually have the time."

After that, we just waited, mostly in silence, as we moved toward the docks.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Lake Calenhad docks

We landed just a bit away from the docks and moved toward it on foot. On the way, we had a brief run-in with a looter—sorry, _scavenger—_who was rooting around in a pile of muck. He told us that he had been told by someone named Faryn, now near Orzammar, that there was good stuff there, but he hadn't found anything. I filed the information away for later and moved on.

Across the water from where we were stood the Circle Tower. Kinloch Hold is an impressive building. It is very tall building, with a spire going even further up. Of course, Morrigan had her own opinion of the building.

"How fitting that they build a prison for mages in the middle of a lake and make it shaped like a giant phallus," she remarked sarcastically. That made me crack a smile.

We moved toward the pier, where a templar stood, with a boat in the water next to him. As we walked toward him, he stopped us.

"Hold! I'm under strict orders not to let anyone cross the lake."

"I'm on urgent business," I argued. "I'm a Grey Warden, and we're collecting on ancient treaties with the mages."

"A Grey Warden?" he asked skeptically. "Prove it."

"Prove it? Really? How am I supposed to 'prove' that I'm a Grey Warden? Kill the archdemon? If I could do that, I wouldn't need the mages." I fished in my pack for the treaty. "Here. The treaty for the mages' service, complete with Grey Warden seal."

"Oh? You have 'documents'? I have documents 'proving' that I'm the queen of Antiva. What do you think of that?"

"Well, you aren't female, or Antivan..."

"Don't question royalty!"

My teammates and I near-simultaneously rested our heads in our hands at the stupidity of that.

"Anyway, nice chat. Now be on your way!"

"No. How about you look at it this way: What if I am a Warden? What if I leave, and without the mages, fail to stop the Blight? What if, because of your skepticism and stupid stubbornness, you end up being responsible for the destruction of all of Ferelden?"

"You... I..."

"Do you want to take that risk?"

Sighing, he replied, "I suppose not. But if I get in trouble for this, it's on your head."

"Whatever. Let's go?"

"Fine," he muttered, motioning toward the boat. We boarded and quietly traveled across the lake to the tower.

Inside, things were less peaceful. A group of templars were milling around apprehensively. A grey-haired, quite old-looking man in even fancier armor than the others addressed another templar.

"I want at least two guards stationed there at all times. _No one_ goes through those doors without my express permission. Understood?"

The templar he was commanding nodded and replied, "Yes, ser."

The older templar turned to us as we entered.

"Now we wait, and pray." His eyes scanned my party before finally settling on Jowan.

"At least there's one bright spot," he remarked. "Seize him!" he commanded his men, indicating Jowan.

My hands instantly went to the hilts of my blades. I didn't draw them... yet... but the message was clear.

"I can't let them do that, I'm afraid," I told the templar, keeping an air of politeness.

"What?" he spat. "Do you even know who that man is? He's an apostate and a maleficar, and he fled this very Circle. He must be captured and brought to justice. I _will_ make an example of him, even if I have to go through you to do it! Those who help maleficarum are as bad as them."

"Wow," I remarked. "You just called Jowan a lot of things. 'Apostate', 'maleficar'... Here's something new you can call him: Warden-Recruit."

"_What_ did you just say?" he hissed.

"I said 'Warden-Recruit'. I found Jowan at Redcliffe Castle and determined that his skills would be a useful asset to the Grey Wardens. Thus, I invoked the Right of Conscription."

"You lie! The Wardens of Ferelden are all dead. The Battle of Ostagar saw to that."

"Really? It's been several weeks since the battle, and the rumors haven't spread yet? I guess this is kind of out of the way... regardless, I am a Warden. I have the documents right here to prove it." I retrieved the mages' treaty from my pack and showed it to him.

"I know of these treaties... and that _is _a Grey Warden seal," he relented. He paused to give Jowan a lingering death glare, then looked back to me. "Fine. I am Greagoir, Knight-Commander of the Circle of Ferelden... such as it is. I understand the Warden's need for aid against the darkspawn, but you'll find none here. The templars are busy, and the mages are... indisposed. I will put it plainly: We no longer control the tower. Abominations and demons stalk the halls. The Circle is lost."

In my peripheral vision, I saw a look of shock and despair on Jowan's face.

Not impressed, I told Greagoir, "So, what you're really saying is that you need someone to kill some demons for you. Isn't that supposed to be what templars are good at?"

He gave me an angry glare.

"It is not so simple as 'killing some demons'. We were prepared to fight abominations in small numbers, but a veritable horde fell upon us. I sealed the doors, sealing the abominations inside... as well as innocent mages and more than a few of my templars, but such is the price that must be paid. I have lost too many good men to continue the fight as it is, so I have sent to Denerim for reinforcements and the Right of Annulment."

Jowan only looked more shocked.

He protested, but only managed to get out,"You can't seriously-"

"Quiet, maleficar!" Greagoir interrupted. "I am doing what must be done. Everyone and everything in the tower must be destroyed so it can be made safe again."

Disgusted, I asked, "Wait, so you're saying that templars can just decide to wipe out a tower full of people? Just slaughter them, man, woman, and child?"

"No, we cannot 'just decide' to Annul a Circle. It is an absolute last resort when a Circle is irredeemable. And I believe it is needed now."

"No. That's not an option," I insisted. "I need the mages, both to combat the Blight, and to help the arl of Redcliffe. Letting them all die wouldn't be an option, even disregarding the moral aspect."

"So _what_ then?!" he exploded. "Do you think that you, five people and a dog, can succeed where dozens of trained templars failed?"

The group shared glances.

"You'd be surprised," I responded.

"Fine! Whatever! If you all want to throw your lives away, that's your business. Believe me, I want there to be survivors as much as you, but I cannot have hope that will only be crushed. If you can find the First Enchanter, Irving, and he tells me the tower is safe, then I will believe you. If Irving has fallen, then I _know_ the tower cannot be saved."

I nodded.

"A word of warning. Once you cross the threshold," he pointed at a pair of enormous doors, "I cannot let you back through without the first enchanter's word. May the Maker turn his gaze on you. You'll need it."

As I approached the doors, Morrigan had a scathing comment, of course.

"Trapped in a cage? A fitting punishment for those who gave up their own freedom."

"Morrigan... no..." I said softly. "I know all too well what's it's like to be mistreated and separated from the rest of the world because of an accident of birth and the Chantry's 'mercy'."

"But... fine."

I also saw Jowan looking very nervous.

"Are you all right?" I asked him.

"Honestly? No," was his response. "This was my home for my whole life. It's probable that we'll be forced to kill people who I once knew well. But I made a commitment to fight alongside you to atone, and I will do so."

"Ah. I imagine there's one reunion you particularly aren't looking forward to, yes?"

His face fell even further.

"He probably not even here, but if he is..." He deeply sighed. "Let's just go, alright?"

Nodding, I approached the door and pushed it open. After the group passed through, it closed behind us with a very final-sounding _thud_.

* * *

**AN**: Thanks to Pintsizedpsycho, SharpRevan, and Eliphas-Chaos for the reviews!


	14. 13: The Circle Tower, Pt 1

**Chapter 13: The Circle Tower, Part 1**

9:30 Dragon

The Circle Tower

I won't deny that that was the moment when I started to worry. I had put on an air of bravado when talking to Greagoir, and I _did_ think that we could prevail, but that door slam made me realize: There's no way out of here except forward, no matter what lies ahead.

Compounding those worries, the first thing we saw was a group of corpses lying on the ground in front of us: one templar, two mages, all three covered in blood. It set the tone for the rest of our time in the tower quite well.

Just after the entrance was a doorway leading into some kind of living area. There must have been twenty or so bunk beds, so it unnerved me that it was deathly still. The only evidence I saw of anyone being there were three corpses scattered across the room.

"Why... why are there so many beds in here but so few bodies?" I asked the group. "It might be a good thing... but it's still really creepy."

Jowan looked around with a hollow expression. In a quiet voice, he said, "This was one of the apprentice quarters. I lived here. I guess..." He took a slow breath. "I guess it could be that most of them are possessed and somewhere else in the tower. Apprentices are supposed to be more vulnerable to demons."

I looked at him, feeling sympathy, if not pity.

"I am _so _sorry..."

"I... let's just move on. I'd prefer not to dwell."

Nodding, I proceeded to search the room quickly and move on. We continued down the hall, seeing even more bloody mage and templar corpses strewn across the floor. We searched another apprentice quarters, though Jowan chose to stay outside this time. I couldn't blame him.

At the end of the hallway was another door. I pushed it open apprehensively.

On the other side of a large room, a doorway was blocked by some sort of magical barrier. In the room stood a group of a few mages and several children. A monstrosity of lava and flame was hit by a blast of icy magic and collapsed, fading from existence. The caster of this magic, an old, white-haired woman, turned to me with fire in her eyes.

"You! Stay back. If I must, I will strike you down, Grey Warden or no."

I thought for a moment. _She recognized me? Who..._ Then it clicked.

"You're Wynne, the mage I met at Ostagar, right?" I asked, trying to keep things calm. "Look, I'm not here to fight."

"If not to fight, then why _are _you here?" she questioned.

"I need the help of the mages, both in general and for something in particular. I was expecting their recruitment to have fewer strings attached, but I take what I can get."

"So... the templars let you in?" she wondered. "Why? Do they plan to attack the tower now?"

"Not _now._.. They're waiting for reinforcements from Denerim."

"Reinforcements? Do they actually intend to-"

"They intend to use said reinforcements to slaughter you all."

"Then... they have the Right of Annulment?" she asked worriedly.

"Not yet, but it'll be coming along with the reinforcements."

"It is as I feared," she sighed. "Greagoir thinks the Circle is beyond hope. Even trapped here and left to our fate, we have survived, but we cannot win if they invoke the Right."

"What happened here to make it this bad in the first place?" I wondered.

"A mage named Uldred attempted to lead a revolt. He returned from Ostagar and tried to take over the Circle. As you can see, his attempts were less than successful. Nevertheless, I will not lose the Circle to the ambition and stupidity of one man!"

"Whoa. Calm down," I replied. "I'm on your side. I can't let the mages be killed. I need them to fight the Blight. What are you going to do?"

"I have created a barrier to protect the children. It will block you from entering the tower, but I will dispel it if if you join me to save the tower."

"Understood. I certainly won't turn down help, especially from a mage."

"Good. When we have made the tower safe, I believe Greagoir will stand down. He is not unreasonable."

"We need the first enchanter to convince him."

"Irving? Then our path is clear."

"Let's go, then."

Morrigan interrupted.

"You want us to assist this preachy schoolmistress in helping these pathetic excuses for mages? I say that if they have allowed themselves to be slaves, then we should follow the whims of their masters."

I gave her an epic eye-roll.

"So, Morrigan, where do _you _intend that we find several dozen or hundred mages to help us fight the Blight? Do you have an army tucked away somewhere you haven't told us about?" I asked hostilely.

"I... well..."

"I am sick and tired of you constantly talking shit about the things I do and then not offering an alternative. Give me another way to get the help of mages, and I'll go with your idea."

"...fine. Do what you wish. I care not."

"So generous..." I turned back to Wynne. "Let's go."

She turned to the other mages.

"Petra, Kinnon, look after the others. Keep them safe."

One of the mages, Petra, voiced her concern.

"You were so badly hurt earlier. Are you sure you're alright? Maybe someone should come with you."

"I will be fine. The others need your protection more."

"So... time to go?"

Wynne was in mid-nod when she stopped. She had been so focused that she hadn't looked past me. When her eyes fell on Jowan, she was able to get out, "Jow-?" in a bewildered voice before being interrupted.

"You'll have time to lecture me after we've saved the Circle," Jowan said, with a mixture of sadness and defiance in his voice.

Wynne gave Jowan, and me, a disapproving glance.

After that, we walked across the room toward the doorway. With a wave of the hand, she dispelled the shimmering blue barrier. She looked as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"That was draining for you, wasn't it?" I asked.

"It... made me weary at times, but I knew I must persevere. Now, be careful! I do not know what monsters we might face further in."

Her words proved prophetic. Down a short hallway, less than a minute later, we entered a library (I assumed. It was a large room full of bookshelves) with several abominations milling about.

I assume you've faced abominations in your line of work? I hadn't. I'd fought undead, darkspawn, a few demons, and a revenant, but I wasn't prepared for abominations. (Well, they weren't as bad as revenants, but the point stands.)

They were terrifying: Almost normal looking on the lower half (though they were wearing robes on that part), but with a misshapen mass of flesh for a torso and head, just normal-looking enough to frighten.

When it saw me, one of them lumbered toward me and began slashing at me with its huge claws. The others followed and attacked the group. I was able to dodge a few slashes, but one of them cut deep. Screaming in pain and anger, I attacked with a devastating series of slashes. I was surprised, then, when the attack didn't do much. The thing's flesh was amorphous and relatively soft, so the cuts didn't hurt much. I ducked away for a moment to catch my breath, only for a warm glow to flow over me, healing the wound. It had come from Wynne. _Whoa,_ I thought. Morrigan knew a bit about healing, but Wynne's was incredible. I returned to the fray. While I had been distracted, Alistair and Jowan had been able to seriously wound one and ultimately slay it. Another was hit by a fireball from Morrigan and, to my shock, was barely affected. It did burn, and it was hurt, but the relative ignorance of such powerful magic was enough to motivate me to jump at it with a long flurry of swings to finish it. The last one, which already had a dozen arrows sticking out of it, was finally killed by a bash-and-slash attack from Alistair.

That done, I took a few deep breaths and looked around the room. There were a lot of books, and a few corpses, but not much else. I saw a partially-destroyed book about some sort of summoning ritual, but wisely decided to leave it alone. We continued walking.

Somehow, before we even left the library, we were set upon by another group. How they hadn't heard us, I didn't and don't understand. This group was comprised of even more abominations (4) and a rage demon.

Let me just say, rage demons are terrifying. I had thought abominations, with their somewhat gelatinous form, were hard to kill. Rage demons are more like a liquid or a gas. Also, because they're basically living fire, you have to be careful not to melt your weapon or heat it so much it burns your hand. I didn't know that then, and it turned out that I didn't need to.

To begin the fight, the rage demon was dealt with almost immediately. Two blasts of elemental ice were shot at the demon, freezing it solid. Frozen fire... not sure how that worked, but it did... Anyway, after that, Wynne launched a large rock at it at very high speeds, and it shattered into small pieces, which then sort of melted and faded at the same time. Impressed, I ran into the fray. Alistair adopted a defensive stance, allowing the rest of us to attack with relative impunity. He was able to mostly block their claw attacks and keep them distracted, and the slashes that connected were quickly healed by Wynne. I ducked behind an abomination and began repeatedly stabbing. It took longer than would for a person, but the tactic still worked. The freeze-and-shatter technique was used to great effectiveness on another one, and a third learned why not to piss off an archer. It had more arrows in it than I could count, including one in each "eye". I'm not sure if that hurts abominations as much as it would people, but _damn_, it looked painful. The last one was savaged by Dane. I'm not sure abomination-flesh is entirely safe for dogs, but he wasn't hurt by it, so it's probably fine.

Through a door, we came to what seemed to be even more library, this time a circular room with a ring of shelves surrounding the center. There was another demon, and a few more abominations. We killed them. I could tell more, but it was basically just the last fight in a different room. That room also contained the stairs leading up to the second floor, which we ascended.

There were no demons or abominations in the first room of the second floor, which I was very glad for. It was just a large, bare room. In a sub-area, we found two men, standing with serene expressions on their faces, calmly discussing something about a stockroom. I immediately noticed small, glowing blue runes traced on their foreheads.

Jowan's reaction was quite emotional. When he looked at one of them, he briefly looked shocked and worried. When he looked at that one's forehead, however, he recoiled in horror and began breathing rapidly.

"No... no..." he whispered, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. "No... this can't... NO!" He practically screamed the last word. He ran toward the man.

The man, for his part, just turned and looked at Jowan calmly.

"Hello, Jowan," he said in a monotone voice. "If you have come to turn yourself in, I don't think that's possible right now."

"No... Daylen... How could they do this?"

Now it made sense. This was Jowan's friend, the one who'd helped him escape, and the templars had Tranquilized him.

"The templars decided to show mercy. I was resistant. I said, 'No, I would sooner choose death or Aeonar'. But they were insistent. I am glad. It is not such a bad existence."

"But... they can't make a Harrowed mage Tranquil! It's illegal!"

"An exception was made. I committed a horrible crime, willingly aiding a maleficar, but it seemed wasteful to kill me. I was a skilled mage. This way, I would able to aid the Circle in enchantment."

Jowan blinked back tears and tried to regain his composure.

"I am... _so _sorry."

"It was my fault as well as yours. What do you have to be sorry for?"

"The fact that you just asked me that question..." Jowan replied bitterly. "Daylen... can you tell me what happened to Lily?"

"I am sorry. The templars said that if I were to ever see you again, I was not allowed to answer that question."

"Of course they did..." Jowan turned away. "Let's go..." he said to the group.

"In a minute," I said gently. "Who are you?" I asked the other man.

"I am Owain. I manage the Circle's stockroom. Daylen was working with me temporarily until it could be decided what he should do."

"What are you two doing here? It isn't safe."

"We tried to leave, but encountered a barrier. So we returned to work."

"You should have said something!" Wynne told them with a mix of impatience and pity. "I would have let you through."

"This place is familiar." He briefly paused. "I would prefer not to die. I would prefer if the tower was returned to how it was. Perhaps Niall will succeed and save us all."

"Niall?" I asked.

"A mage. He came through with several others and took the Litany of Adralla."

"But... that protects from mind domination. Is blood magic at work?" Wynne asked, shocked.

"Of course it is," I responded. "Demon summoning, abominations... is any of that even possible without blood magic?"

Jowan was looking extremely uncomfortable, in addition to sad, throughout all of this.

"Hmm... I suppose not," Wynne answered. "We should find Niall. The Litany of Adralla will give us a better chance of fighting any blood mages we might find."

"Perhaps everything will return to normal." Owain's emotionless voice almost sounded hopeful. "Goodbye."

Nodding to the two, I continued.

* * *

9:39 Dragon

City of Amaranthine

"That was my first encounter with Tranquility," Mirevas said, a hard edge to his voice. "A man trying to help his best friend be free with the person he loves and being punished with a fate worse than fucking _death_! Things like that are why I support the mages and hate the Chantry. How could that ever be justified?"

Cassandra hesitated.

"No one has ever said that the Rite is a _good_ thing, outside of a very few extremists. But you cannot say the alternative is better."

"What alternative? Death? Almost every mage that I've ever met would die rather than be made Tranquil. Even if you believed that it was ever necessary, is it really worth it? Do its positive effects outweigh things like _Kirkwall_?"

"Kirkwall... a lot of things happened in Kirkwall. We still don't know everything. There were abuses, but there was also a great deal of magical corruption."

Mirevas rubbed his forehead.

"I can't argue this anymore right now. My head'll explode. Where was I?"

* * *

9:30 Dragon

The Circle Tower

A little bit further, we paused before an entranceway. In the room ahead, we heard a small group of blood mages talking among themselves, discussing how they were helping Uldred. We were about to move in when Jowan raised an arm and whispered, "I'm going to try something."

"Shh! I think I heard something," one of the mages said.

Jowan quietly slid a knife out of its sheath and raised his other hand. With one smooth movement, he drew the knife across his palm. With an expression of great focus on his face, he channeled magic through his cut hand. The trickle of blood began to bubble and hiss.

"I definitely heard-" the mage was cut off by a huge blast of energy. From the middle of the group, a wave of blue light passed over them. All of the mages caught in it briefly burned in azure flame before extinguishing and collapsing.

The whole group stared at Jowan, with differing expressions. He, for his part, nearly collapsed with exhaustion. The spell had taken a _lot _from him.

Morrigan and I looked impressed, a first for her from my perspective. Leliana looked worried, but as though she was trying to hide impression. I could also see the wheels turning in her head. She was going to put this into a story or song somehow. Alistair looked scared and sort of revolted. Wynne...

Wynne looked _pissed_.

"I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, _maleficar_," she hissed walking up to him and pointing her staff at this slumped form. "I believed that maybe the stories about you were exaggerated, or that you had reformed. Now it seems-"

"Wynne!" I interrupted. "He's helping us. He's going to keep helping us. You can't touch him; I've recruited him into the Wardens."

"I had thought the Wardens had higher standards..." she commented contemptuously. "Fine. I will talk about this later. We still have a tower to save."

"Good... I think." I turned to Jowan, who was only now managing to rise to his feet. "What was _that_?" I asked. He took a swig from a bottle of glowing blue liquid and replied.

"That..." He took a deep breath. "That was an experimental technique I've been working on for a while. I call it a 'mana clash'. It's a type of energy that reacts with lyrium, such as that in the blood of mages... rather violently, as you can see. I still have a few kinks to work out. It's... quite tiring."

"Where did you find time to experiment with something like that?" I asked, bewildered.

"In my cell. When I wasn't being tortured or interrogated, they mostly forgot about me. Not the smartest move on their part, but it let me try out new things with magic... and blood... The studying and experimentation kept me sane. This actually wasn't the spell's intended purpose, but it worked quite well."

"Then what was its intended purpose?"

"It was supposed to be a nonlethal way to disable templars. They have a lot less lyrium in their blood than mages, so it wouldn't kill. It would cause an incredible amount of pain, though, and also purge the lyrium from their system, leading to weakened abilities and withdrawal. I was going to use it if I somehow escaped."

"Don't they keep the lyrium thing a secret?" I asked, glancing at Alistair.

"They _try_, but most people older than children know about it. You hear rumors about a black market for templars who want more than their rations, that sort of thing."

"All right, then. If none of us are going to murder each other, let's move on."

* * *

9:39 Dragon

City of Amaranthine

"Seriously? What now?"

"What?" Cassandra asked. "I didn't say anything."

"You seemed unnerved by the description of the mana clash. No? Whatever. See if I care..."

* * *

9:30 Dragon

The Circle Tower

Well, move on we did. On the second floor, there were few notable battles. We fought abominations, blood mages, undead, a demon or two, but once you've killed one demon-possessed monster, you've pretty much killed them all.

There were a few exceptions. Near a toppled statue (of Andraste, I think), we found an opaque black vial with a scrap of paper in it. The area seemed colder than it should have. I stooped down and tried to pick up the vial, but it shattered at my touch. A few feet away, a heavily armored warrior with glowing red eyes materialized.

A revenant.

"Shit!" I yelled, recoiling.

I made a gesture indicating that the ranged combatants should back away. Leliana made a combat roll away and drew her bow. Wynne ran faster than I thought would be possible for a woman that old, and Jowan was also able to escape. Morrigan, on the other hand, simply looked at the revenant with scorn and shapeshifted into a bear. Alistair began a sword-and-shield duel of sorts with the monster, though he would definitely not have been able to win on his own. He was able to stand his ground as his opponent was filled with arrows and energy blasts from Jowan's staff. I stayed to the side or back of it, waiting for openings to stab it in its vulnerable spots. Slowly but surely, the monster was worn down. Suddenly, it made a massive sweep with its sword—wielded in one hand but the size of a greatsword. The slash was blocked from Alistair by his shield, but cut deeply into my torso. I half-ducked, half-collapsed and began gasping in pain and lack of breath. Bleeding profusely, I fell unconscious.

I didn't make it.

...what? Am I not allowed the occasional joke? Whatever...

I was brought back from unconsciousness just in time to see Alistair cutting off the revenant's head, finally killing it.

I took a few quick breaths only to realize that it didn't hurt to breathe. I felt fine. Not amazing, but certainly not like I'd just been slashed in the chest by a greatsword.

"Wha... What was that?" I asked.

"You are all right!" Leliana said, sounding relieved.

"The girl was quite distraught when you fell. I believe she referred to you by name, in fact," Morrigan smirked.

"I... of course I was. I can't help save Ferelden without him, can I?"

"Yes... _that_ was your motivation."

"Shut up," I told Morrigan annoyedly.

"That was what we call a 'revival', for obvious reasons," Wynne explained. "It is a spell that only those who specialize in healing can learn; it takes quite a bit of training. It is used to heal serious wounds and restore people to consciousness."

"Well... thanks."

"It is no trouble. Well... not _that _much trouble."

I went back to the statue and pulled out the piece of paper. It was covered in writing:

_Let the dead no longer serve your whim.  
Bound by your true name, no mortal hand shall reach you.  
Cale Viazagat, revenant and perversion of an only son.  
Death beyond death is no longer your stepping stone through the veil.  
Andraste hold you, demon, and bind your rage for eternity. _

At the bottom of the paper was a signature of sorts, six fingerprints stamped in blood.

"I think that people weren't able to kill this revenant, so they bound him here. When we disturbed the vial, we released him. So... now he's dead. I don't think this had anything to do with the trouble in the tower, but I think it was good we killed him."

We continued, a little worse for the wear. Further in, we entered a room flanked by bookshelves, with a large desk in the center.

"This is First Enchanter Irving's office. I had hoped we might find him here, but I suppose that was just wishful thinking," Wynne commented.

I began searching the room.

"...what are you doing?" Wynne asked.

"Looking around. There might be something important."

"You aren't planning on _looting_ the first enchanter's office, are you?"

"Of course not," I lied.

I did find something mildly interesting that I shared. Apparently, Uldred had impressed Irving with his skill in misdirection and spotting the signs of blood magic and Irving had called a meeting of the senior enchancters so they could learn from him. _That_ had turned out well...

I also found a small painted box. I didn't quite know why, but I wanted it. It was a box. Boxes are cool. So I took it. I got a few confused glances, but the group didn't much care. It was just a box.

The other thing I found was slightly less innocuous. It was a large black book covered with incomprehensible writing. I could guess that it was magic, and one of my less by-the-book (so to speak) mages could no doubt benefit from it. That I was able to surreptitiously stow in my pack.

"Let's move on."

Just past Irving's office were the stairs leading up. The third floor opened into a large empty room, a common room, I think, but it had an atmosphere of disquiet. I felt as though I was being watched. The corpses strewn about coming to life didn't help. We dispatched the undead quickly. The floor held little that threatened us. A few abominations, a few rage demons, a few possessed templars—_they _were unnerving—nothing that seemed too dangerous. When we approached the large door leading into the floor's central chamber, I wasn't expecting things to take a turn for the disturbing. It wasn't as bad as what would come later, but it would certainly set the tone for it.

* * *

**AN**: Thanks as always to Pintsizedpsycho and SharpRevan for the reviews.

**AN** **2**: Sorry for the long delay. Hope the 4.4k word chapter makes up for it.

**AN 3**: You could probably get this from just reading, but I feel the need to say it: Seriously, poor Jowan.

**AN 4 **(I swear this is the last one): I posted the first chapter of this chapter a month ago yesterday, and it already has almost 2500 views. Out of all of my stories, it's #1 in everything but favorites (so if you want to favorite, that would be cool). Thank you so much to everyone who's followed, favorited, reviewed, or just read the story.


	15. 14: The Circle Tower, Pt 2

**Chapter 14: The Circle Tower, Part 2**

9:30 Dragon

The Circle Tower

The sight of the Great Hall nearly made me vomit, even more so than anything I'd previously seen. In the center, what was once a normal group of statues was covered in bloody rotten flesh, with huge globes of greyish-pink meat hanging off of it like a parasite. There were more piles of rotting meat near the pillars supporting the ceiling. More of the pustules of flesh hung off of the walls above a stairway. There were piles of mutilated corpses off to the side in several areas. As if to accentuate the situation, tables were still covered in (admittedly somewhat disorganized) food and dining supplies. A stench similar to the taint hung in the room, in addition to blood. The whole area smelled overwhelming like rot and blood. The smell was so strong I was momentarily disoriented. Not the best thing to happen, considering there were an abomination, a skeleton warrior, and two skeleton archers also in the room.

Leliana quickly saw what was happening, pushed me to the side, and filled one of the archers with arrows. Hard to kill a skeleton with arrows, but she did it. The other archer was quickly downed by a magical barrage from several sources. Recovering, I launched into an attack on the skeleton warrior. Swords generally aren't very useful against skeletons, so I wasn't able to accomplish anything much at first. Advice from me to you: Leverage. There are quite a few more gaps in a skeleton to exploit, as you can no doubt imagine. When I formulated this new strategy, I was able to quickly disassemble, then destroy the skeleton.

Meanwhile, the others were dealing with the abomination. It seemed quite powerful at the time, but nothing they couldn't handle. All I saw was it getting hit by a magical rock and then splattering. Not the best aid for nausea, but necessary.

When the enemies were dealt with, I noticed a pair of blue-white energy fields near the middle of the room. They faded to reveal a pair of Tranquil, utterly unfazed by the slaughter and by the gore and death surrounding them. Say what you will about Tranquil (I certainly have), but the one thing they are is stoic.

We ascended the stairs to the next floor. My hopes for a respite, however brief, were dashed when I saw the continued corrupted bags of bloated flesh and piles of rotting meat. The bodies covered in blood were becoming almost routine. I heard Leliana mutter that she would have nightmares about this. I couldn't blame her; I felt similar. Jowan looked pale and was desperately trying to focus his attention anywhere away from the corruption and death. Morrigan, contrarily as always, seemed to be observing the... whatever it was... academically.

As we continued, the corruption did as well. The hall before us was covered with the stuff, but we persevered. In one of the adjoining rooms, there was a desire demon talking to a templar. Never having seen a desire demon before, it was incredibly disturbing to see a purple woman with similarly-colored flames dancing around her head and horns, who was also wearing basically nothing and floating above the ground. Just to make it creepier, she was talking to a templar with glazed-over eyes about casual topics. He seemed to be under her control, thinking that they were normal humans, married. They mentioned children, who not only seemed to be anatomically impossible, but were also nowhere to be seen. Then the demon began speaking from the perspective of said children, which was frankly horrifying.

I charged forward.

"Maker's breath! What is going on here?" I asked in horror.

Oblivious to my speech, the templar was quickly distracted by the demon telling him to tuck their nonexistent children into bed. After, the demon turned to me.

"You are intruding upon a loving, intimate moment, and I dislike disruptions..." she hissed menacingly.

"It's a desire demon," Wynne said contemptuously. "It's not capable of love or intimacy, and it has the templar under its control."

"I have given him what he always wanted," the demon countered. "Is there any harm in that?"

"Yes. But you won't have time to wonder why." I motioned toward it, and a barrage of projectile flew toward it. It slumped briefly, but recovered.

"What was that?" the templar asked. He seemed more aware.

"There are bandits!" the demon lied. "They've come to murder the children!"

The templar's eyes glazed over once more as he said, "They will not get past me!"

I ducked past the templar to face the demon. Desire demons are strange to fight. They are not resistant to sword strikes (save for the very small areas that are armored), but somehow they are incredibly difficult to kill. Coupled with their magic, that makes them dangerous combatants. Despite that, one melee and four ranged attackers are enough to deal with most anything.

When the demon was finally struck down, the templar fell to the floor as well. We all backed away slightly, believing that he had been released. That belief turned out to be true, in a way—he was not under the demon's control, but he was sent into a murderous frenzy, with no sign of sanity in his eyes. I sneaked behind him and jammed one of my swords through a chink in his armor. Even when he fell, he continued to swing wildly at anyone he could reach. With a mixture of pity and disgust, I slashed his exposed neck.

"Poor bastard," I muttered.

After a bit more exploration, I realized that the only way forward was through the door leading into the central chamber. Wary, due to past experience, I pulled the door open.

The room appeared to be a library, with bookshelves flanking the entranceway. The room was full of the now-ubiquitous corruption. Directly in front of us stood an abomination. We stared at it for a little while, because it wasn't attacking, even though it could clearly see us. I began to approach, suspiciously.

When we got close, it turned its attention from the bloody corpse of a mage to us.

"Oh, look," it said in a slow, monotone voice. "Visitors. I'd entertain you, but... too much effort involved."

"What _are _you?" I asked, bewildered. "Why haven't you attacked us?"

"I am tired of the violence in this world. Do you not feel the same way? Wouldn't you like to just... lie down and forget all of this?"

"What? No, of course..." A wave of exhaustion washed over me. "Of... course... not..."

I could hear my companions expressing similar feelings—defiance mixed with unwilling exhaustion. Jowan in particular seemed terrified at the thought of letting a demon into his head.

"Why do you resist?" it asked. Its questions were starting to sound more and more reasonable. "Wouldn't you like to just lay down and sleep? The world will go on without you..."

I tried as hard as I could to keep focused, but it was for naught. By the end of that sentence, I had slumped to the ground, already entering a dream world of the demon's design.

* * *

**AN**: Thanks for the reviews (all that time ago) from SharpRevan and Pintsizedpsycho.

**AN 2**: I am very sorry for the chapter being so short, especially after all of this time, but I'm going to be updating pretty frequently now that school's out.


	16. 15: The Fade

**Chapter 15: The Fade**

9:30 Dragon

The Fade

I woke up, or at least that's what it seemed like, in a huge fortress. It reminded me of Ostagar in its design. The first things I noticed was the utter quiet. That coupled with a feeling of implacable unease to make me suspicious of my surroundings.

"Hello?" I called out. My voice echoed back to me, but there was no answer. I looked around. The sky was covered in clouds, and a thin mist seemed to hang over the area. I thought it was just bad weather at first.

Feeling more than a little bit scared, I began walking forward. I didn't know what lay ahead, but it was better to move than do nothing. My footsteps seemed incredibly loud against the nonexistent background noise.

I approached a ramp leading to a higher area, but was distracted by a magical artifact of sorts. It seemed to be a group of golden rings, rotating and revolving with no mechanisms, surrounded by a corona of orange light. Emanating from it was a faint whispering sound, unintelligible but somehow menacing.

I pulled my focus away from the wonder to look back at the ramp. I ascended, only to see something even more unbelievable.

"Duncan?" I asked, bewildered.

It appeared that Duncan, the very same Grey Warden that had recruited me and saved my life, was standing a short distance away. Something seemed wrong about that, but I couldn't identify what yet.

"Ah, there you are," he said as I approached. "Am I disturbing you?"

"No... but... something feels wrong about this. Where are we?"

"It seems you have been deep in thought for a long time, to forget something like that!" he chuckled. "We are at Weisshaupt Fortress, as we have been for some time."

"Weisshaupt? The Grey Warden fortress? Don't we still have a Blight to deal with?"

He laughed, but it seemed to have a nervous tone to it.

"The Blight has been defeated. Don't you remember? We triumphed against the darkspawn, slew the archdemon, and destroyed the underground lairs. You were there, remember?"

"I..." A flood of memories flowed back into my head. "No. That's not possible. You died at Ostagar. I saw a darkspawn take your head off. What is this?"

"You... must be misremembering. Nothing like that-"

Another series of memories had resurfaced.

_Redcliffe._

_ The Circle Tower._

_ The demon._

"This is a trick!" I interrupted.

Not-Duncan's face adopted a sneer that didn't seem to fit it.

"Foolish child. Can you not be content with the peace that I offer you?"

I pretended to ponder the question.

"Let me think...um... Yeah, _fuck no._" I rolled backward and pulled my swords out.

"If it will take war and death to satisfy you, then you will have your fill!" Not-Duncan yelled.

"Not a bad comeback," I muttered, adopting a defensive stance against Not-Duncan and two "Grey Warden" allies that joined.

Immediately, a searing pain spread over my chest as a blast of fire from a mage struck my breastplate. I charged and launched into a savage flurry of blows against the mage.

_Good to know that the laws of reality still apply, for now, at least_, I thought as the slashes struck true and felled the mage.

While I was distracted, Not-Duncan was able to get the drop on me. He fought using a two-weapon style similar to my own, but that gave him an advantage. I had little experience countering my own style. Nonetheless, I was able to deflect most of his blows. But we were in a stalemate, and an archer was supporting him.

I made a desperate lunge toward the archer, but was barely able to stop myself from collapsing as a jolt of pain raced through my burned chest.

_Oh, right. _Those_ laws of reality still apply, as well, _I thought.

As Not-Duncan neared my crouched form, I kicked his legs out from under him and used that as an opening to deal with the archer.

That left two people—me and the mockery of someone I once called friend, however briefly. I stared at it with death in my eyes, and it almost seemed to waver. With a savage war cry, I charged and laid into it with furious speed and anger. It put up a good defense, but that wasn't enough to stop me.

I've always found that funny—a battle that I'm quite proud of, and it literally happened in my dreams.

Anyway, with those people dead, I took a moment to catch my breath and observe my surroundings. I could see two important-looking landmarks on the platform. One was a grey stone with blue glowing veins of ore running through it—lyrium, though I didn't know it then. What I did know was that when I cautiously touched it, magic flowed through me and healed my imaginary wounds. The other was a pedestal surrounded by a glowing magical glyph. This I was even more cautious to approach, but I could see no other option. I walked up to it (the glyph doing nothing) and tentatively touched it.

Alright, Seeker, this is where the story gets a little muddled. I remember most of the important stuff that happened in the Fade, but a large portion of it, right around now... faded... from my memory and blurred together. From what I remember, it was mostly unexciting—walking around, solving these strange puzzles, shapeshifting, maybe a few moderately exciting fights—and I'm pretty sure that the reason was medium. The Fade is literally a realm of dreams, so it stands to reason that memories formed there would be less reliable. I'll pick up where my memory does:

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Elsewhere in the Fade

The pedestal (not the same pedestal, a different one) pulled me to a different area. It was a strange feeling... like falling without moving at all. The area I was taken to had different terrain than "Weisshaupt", but the sky was the same. The area seemed like an untamed wilderness to me, with strange contours to the terrain and twisted, gnarled tree.

Assuming I had probably been taken there for some reason, I began to explore. It didn't take long before I encountered someone. Two people, actually. It looked like Leliana, couching down in what looked like a prayerful position, accompanied by an old Chantry priest. I was wary of both of them, however, after the previous attempt to trick me. My first thought was that it was a trap for someone, either Leliana or me.

I cautiously approached the pair.

Leliana, as I had suspected, was reciting from the Chant of Light, and didn't notice me.

"Um... hello?" I said tentatively. "This isn't really the time for prayer, Leliana."

"Please don't interrupt her meditations," the priest admonished.

Leliana straightened and looked at me with a confused look.

"I do not know this person, Revered Mother," she said to the priest.

"Don't remember?" I asked. Now I was pretty sure this was her trap, not mine. "I'm Mirevas... you know, the subject of many of your future tales."

"I... am sorry," she replied hesitantly, "but I really don not recognize you."

Impatiently, I responded, "This is the Fade and you're being tricked. You came with me weeks ago when I passed through Lothering. You had a dream about the Blight and wanted to help."

"Dr—How do you know about my dream? I barely told anyone..."

The "priest" addressed her.

"We have talked about this. The Maker does not interfere in the works of mortals. This dream was most likely the result of demons."

"No," she replied. "The revered mother I knew respected my beliefs, even if she didn't share them. Whatever you are, you are not her."

She turned to me and began to say something, but I cut her off by saying, "Uh... you probably shouldn't turn-"

As I spoke, the "revered mother" transformed into a shade and prepared to attack.

"yourbackonher," I finished quickly, pushing her aside and rushing forward.

Leliana looked back at the shade with shock, but to her credit, she adjusted quickly. I began slicing through the shade, still somewhat unnerves by the texture. With archery backup, the shade didn't stand much of a chance.

"Ugh... my head feels heavy... like I just woke up from a nightmare," Leliana muttered. "I believe we... what?" Her form began to fade away into nothingness.

I stared at the spot where she had been, blinked a few times, and told myself, "Eh, _probably_ a good thing."

After that, I returned to the pedestal and touched it once again. I felt the falling sensation once again.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Else-Elsewhere in the Fade

This new location in the Fade was similar to the one I had just left. I cautiously began looking around.

It took all of twenty seconds to find my dog, sleeping. How it's possible to sleep inside of a dream world, I don't know, but he managed it. I woke him up, he faded away, and I returned to the pedestal.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Still Elsewhere in the Fade

I began to explore the new location I was pulled to. In this one, I realized what was going on through what I heard rather than saw. Specifically, I heard the rather distinctive voice of Morrigan, angry as usual.

"Away!" she said, outside my sight. I began moving toward the sound. "Away with you! I shall have no more of your pestering!"

"I am your mother..." someone replied, sounding like Flemeth in voice but not tone, "do you not love me?"

"You are as much my mother as my little finger, right here, is queen of Ferelden. I know you, Fade spirit, you cannot fool me."

At around this time, I managed to reach the pair. Indeed, they did appear to be Morrigan and Flemeth, although "Flemeth" seemed to have a strange demeanor to her.

"Oh, thank the Maker," I muttered to myself. Then, to Morrigan, I said, "I was worried that everyone would be stuck in their fantasies."

Morrigan looked at me with a smirk.

"Yes... that wouldn't surprise me. Who have you encountered so far? The girl? The old woman? _Alistair_? They do seem the sort to ignore reality."

"Leliana and my dog," I answered with a guilty chuckle.

"Ah. I imagine the latter was better adjusted to the realities of the Fade..."

At that point, "Flemeth" delivered Morrigan a hard slap.

"That is for disrespecting your mother. Pay attention when I am speaking!"

Morrigan simply laughed.

"Now you are learning how to do this impersonation properly, but it is still too little, too late. Now," she looked to me, "Let us be rid of this... _spirit. _'Tis more annoying than the _real_ Flemeth..."

And, shockingly, even in dream worlds, decrepit old women are easy to defeat in stand-up fights. So we did just that.

"Finally... 'Twas becoming almost unendurable with-Wait... what's happening? Oh, not again..." And as Morrigan finished that sentence, she too faded away.

Continuing, as I really had no other choice, I returned to the pedestal.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Yet Another Unique Area of the Fade

This area seemed even smaller than previous ones. Immediately from where I began, I could see Alistair standing with a red-haired woman, with a few children and a pot on a fire.

_Hmm... Maybe a lover of some kind?_ was my first thought. I approached the group.

"Hey, it's you," Alistair said when he saw me. "What a lovely coincidence. This is my sister, Goldanna," _Oh, Maker, please have been wrong, please have been wrong, _"and these are her children, but I think there are a few more somewhere around here. Anyway, all of us are one big, happy family, at long last!"

"Hmm..." I cautiously asked, "Sister? I didn't know you had a sister."

"Well, _half_-sister, but she's still the closest thing I have to family, and I'm happier here than I've ever been."

I began weighing the possibilities before deciding in favor of bluntness.

"Alistair... This... um... isn't real."

"What?"

"All of this... your 'happiness'... is a dream. Remember in the Circle Tower, with the demon?"

"I..." His facial features contorted with confusion. "The... I can almost remember something about that, but..."

"We were going to the Circle Tower to help save Arl Eamon. You remember that, right?"

He blinked a few times, then made an even greater attempt to remember.

"I... It's fuzzy... Something's wrong here." He turned to "Goldanna". "Something doesn't feel right. I think I should go."

"Good," I replied. "That's not really your sister anyway."

"It seems like she is... but also isn't..."

"No!" "Goldanna" yelled. "I'll see him dead sooner than free!"

She lunged out at Alistair. In shock, he recoiled. Around us, the "children" were transforming into what looked like slavering undead monsters. That's one way to make the right side clear.

I, under no illusions as to her identity, cut down the unarmed, unarmored "Goldanna" easily. The others put up more of a fight, but even 4:2 odds were nigh-unwinnable, even then.

As I felled the last skeleton, Alistair looked at his "sister"'s corpse and then to me.

"Goldanna? I... I should've seen this sooner."

"Don't worry, you're not the first," I assured him, neglecting to mention Morrigan. "Maybe it's part of the magic the demon used."

"Well, just don't mention how easily fooled I was to anyone else, will you?"

"I won't tell it to anyone who wouldn't be able to guess on their own."

"Yes, yes... _very _clever... Wait. Where are you going? What's happening? Hey..."

And with that, he was gone, and I continued.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Shockingly, A Different Part of the Fade

This new area got off to a cheery start for me. The first thing I heard after I arrived was the sound of screaming.

"Huh." At first I was more confused than anything, but that subsided after a moment. I quickly realized that even though the previous dream realms had attempted to keep their prisoners in line through pleasure, it stood to reason that pain would work as well.

Regardless of my wonderings, I immediately rushed toward the sound. The area was small, like the others, so it didn't take long for me to find the source.

Said source was Jowan, stretched over a rack, screaming in pain. A stereotypically evil-looking masked man stood operating it, and a reasonable approximation of Arlessa Isolde stood nearby, "supervising", I would imagine.

"Reverse what you've done," the man commanded in a deep voice.

"Ahh! I've told you already, I don't know! The poison's not reversable and there's no antidote I know of!"

"That's not what we're talking about and you know it."

"No! I don't know! Why won't-"

"Ugh. Leave him. Perhaps in a while, after we return, he will be more open to telling the truth."

Through that, I had been glaring disgustedly at the pair. At that, I took action. I walked to them, stabbed the torturer in the back, moved a bit further, and cleanly decapitated "Isolde".

"Sadistic bastards..." I muttered. I cut the ropes binding Jowan down.

"Thank you..." he told me weakly, trying to sit up. "I... do I know you? You seem familiar."

"Well, I should. Don't mages have some sort of affinity for the Fade?"

"The Fade?" he asked, blinking. "But... the pain... it felt so real..."

"Then the demon did his job right." I pulled Jowan off the rack and guided him toward touching a nearby lyrium vein. Strength seemed to refill his body.

"Oh," he said, realization dawning on him, "it's you. Of course... it was the demon. You're right, I should have realized, but..."

"No harm done. Now, don't panic, but pretty soon you're going to start disappearing."

"What?"

And then my words proved true, and he was gone.

"Well, almost done."

I returned to the pedestal and moved on to the last person's trap.

* * *

Dragon

Hard As It May Be To Believe, Another Unique Part of the Fade

_So, what'll it be? _I thought. _Maybe just idyllic life at the Circ... oh._

As soon as I arrived in Wynne's confinement world, I was greeted by the sight of dead children (or at least pretty young people) in mage robes. Wynne was standing in the middle, looking at them with sorrow in her eyes.

When she saw me, she quietly said, "Maker forgive me. I failed them all. They died and I did not stop it."

At this point I was out of patience and Wynne had already annoyed me, so I decided to forgo tact.

"No, they didn't. Well, not yet. If you don't pull your head out of your ass and realize this is the Fade, they might."

She looked at me.

"What? How can you say that? There is so much death... Leave me to my-"

"Get over yourself! Fade. Not real. Aren't you supposed to be a mage?"

"I... would assume that I could recognize the Fade... I have an affinity for it... but... now... that you mention it, it's hard to focus. I think some time away from here would be good."

"Probably. Now, if previous experience has taught me anything, demons will show up soon."

As if on queue, one of the "apprentices" stood up and said, "No, Wynne. Don't go. We need you."

"Thought so." I quickly struck down the "apprentice" as two more stood up.

After they too were summarily dealt with, I mused, "Unarmored mages attacking at close range. Even in the Fade, they'll never learn."

At that point, Wynne began disappearing, with the same confusion and vague protestations I had heard before.

I returned to the pedestal, unsure where I would be taken now.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Last of This Crappy Running Gag... I mean, Last Area of the Fade

My arrival in the last area was done with a worried feeling. I didn't know what I would be getting myself into, and it didn't help that I was still alone.

The area was relatively open, but enclosed by walls made of spikes. Across from me was an arcane horror. It didn't seem to react when I arrived, but I still proceeded with caution.

Cautiously, I walked forward. When I had reached the horror, it finally reacted to my presence.

"What do we have here?" it asked condescendingly. "A rebellious minion? An escaped slave? My, my, but you do have some gall. But playtime is over. You _all_ have to go back now."

_Ah, _I thought. _This is the demon. Wait... all?_

My companions began to blink into existence, and they all had things to say.

"Oh... There you are..." Alistair said, sounding confused. "I just saw you..."

"No demon will ever hold sway over my mind!" Jowan declared with uncharacteristic force.

"You kept us apart because together, you fear us, don't you?" Leliana asked, calmly.

"You cannot hold us, demon," said Wynne. "We found each other in this place and we will defeat you."

"Oh, let us be done with this melodrama!" was Morrigan's annoyed concluding command.

"If you go back quietly, I'll do much better this time. You'll be much happier," the demon told us.

"I would hardly call that 'happiness'!" Jowan protested.

Smirking a bit, I told the demon, "No. I'd rather be free."

"I made you happy and safe. I gave you peace. I did my best for you, and you say you want to _leave_? Can't you think about someone other than yourself? I'm hurt, so very, very hurt."

"Thinking about other people? Why do you think I'm trying to stop you, selfishness? I'm going to rid the world of your evil."

"You wish to battle _me?_ So be it. You will learn to bow to your betters, mortal."

"Hmm... I've kind of got a problem with bowing. Comes with being a rebellious elf. But try your best to teach this lesson."

With a cry of rage, the demon changed from a horror to an ogre. I ducked back to let resident human shield Alistair take up his usual position. I mostly moved in and out of melee combat to attack when it was vulnerable. The fighting had gone on for a bit when Wynne launched some sort of magical boulder at the thing's foot. It turns out ogres are quite top-heavy, and it fell over. For a little while, Alistair and I were able to repeatedly slash and stab its prone form. After it recovered, though, it was able to knock us back with a sweep of its arm and get back up. It began lumbering toward Leliana while we were down.

"Go for the eyes!" I called over to her. Understanding, she rapidly fired off a shot into each of the ogre's eyes. As it screamed and clawed at its face, I formed a plan.

I ran toward its back, rolled between its legs, turned around, and stabbed upward. Its screams of pain were almost piteous, but they didn't slow me down. I called for an attack, and it was knocked down by a spell. I leaped onto its torso and began repeatedly stabbing it. Eventually, it finally seemed to be dead.

Our hopes that this was finally over were quickly shattered when the ogre corpse faded only to be replaced by the glowing orange form of a rage demon.

"Hatred! Burning! It feeds m-"

The demon was blasted simultaneously with three frost spells, freezing it solid. Alistair made a powerful shield bash with a running start, which all but shattered it. When the remnants quickly melted, they provided very little danger.

As the orange liquid that was left melted into the ground, an abomination appeared, declaring, "I am your worst nightmare!"

"Ha! You barely rank..." I retorted.

A few people agreed with the sentiment as we prepared for a third fight.

The abomination lunged toward me, but I rebuffed it with a "whirlwind" spinning blade attack. It continued to attack, but I was good enough at defense that it couldn't accomplish much other than distracting itself. By the time it decided to disengage, it had already sustained several stab wounds, a half-dozen arrow shots, and copious amounts of elemental burns. When it moved to attack someone else, I rushed toward its back and launched a devastating series of stabs, killing it.

Once again, this wasn't the end. It quickly transformed into a shade with a burst of magical energy.

"I command the shadows of your darkest dreams!"

At this point, I was confident, if a bit tired. Not sure how you tire outside of reality I don't know, but this is getting off topic. My point is that the shade's attack caught me off guard.

As I assumed a defensive stance, the shade launched itself toward me. I tried to block, but it slammed into me with a great deal of force (more than I thought possible for a half-solid creature). I had barely stood back up when it hit me with another powerful attack.

"Ugh... little help?" I asked weakly. Turns out that they _had _been helping. Wasn't really the best news. So I started running. Turns out that for a supposedly intelligent demon, it had a very singleminded and kind of stupid vendetta against me, so it continued to chase me until it had been beaten into a puff of black smoke by my party.

With that, it reformed into its original arcane horror form.

"No more games! Face me, and die!" it screamed, sounding impatient and almost petulant.

"Almost the end..." I muttered. "That's _probably_ good."

These thoughts were interrupted by a fireball being thrown right at me. Searing-hot metal armor really, _really _hurts.

While I was distracted with being in intense pain, the horror launched a lightning ball that reverberated between the members of my party. Electrified metal armor also really, _really_ hurts.

"Little help here?!" I half-asked, half-screamed.

Wynne launched a cold spell followed by a healing spell. I didn't feel great, but I wasn't going to die, so I jumped back into the fray. A bit of melee beating on it propted it to cast another spell, some sort of area cold spell. And that was _not_ a comfortable temperature contrast. Also, freezing metal armor really, _really _hurts. Just in general, don't bring metal armor to a magic-fight against something that takes more than a few hits to kill.

As most of us made the tactical decision to retreat from the freezing area, Morrigan just turned into a bear. That's one way of dealing with the cold, I guess. She charged at the horror and started laying into it. It was terrifying how effectively she destroyed it. Also, you have not lived until you've seen a bear fight an arcane horror. So most people haven't lived, then, but I stand by my statement.

When the horror crumpled to the ground, no new demon rose to take its place. The ordeal was finally over.

I approached Niall... Have I mentioned Niall? Actually... I barely remember Niall. I suppose it was part of the memory blurs. I remember that he helped me... This pisses me off! I can remember that he should be remembered, but not why!

Anyway, he told me to return to the real world, but that he couldn't. He'd been in there too long, and his real body had decayed. He told me to take the Litany of Adralla from his body to protect from Uldred's blood magic.

And then... I woke up.

* * *

9:39 Dragon

City of Amaranthine

"Wait," Cassandra commanded. "You have talked a great deal about your time in the Fade."

"Yes... I have."

"But you never mentioned the Black City."

"No. The Black City was there. It never affected me."

"The Black City is the one constant, no matter where you are in the Fade. You never remembered it enough to mention it?"

"No..."

She sighed.

"It is just... You are a strange person."

"No... Seriously? I hadn't figured it out yet. Now, the fate of the Circle..."

**AN**: Thanks to SharpRevan and Pintsizedpsycho for the reviews!

**AN 2**: I bet you thought this part would be overly long, convoluted, and not very exciting, didn't you? Skip the Fade mod, I never start a game without it.


	17. 16: The Circle Tower, Pt 3

**Chapter 16: The Circle Tower, Part 3**

9:30 Dragon

The Circle Tower

I opened my eyes blearily and stood up tentatively. The burns and injuries I had sustained didn't carry over into the real world, though. The only physical problems I had were grogginess and the vague dull ache of sleeping in armor. They were nothing that I couldn't shake off.

Near me, my companions began to wake up as well. Apart from a few complaints about the blood and filth from the floor stuck on their armor/robes, they were all fine.

In front of us, the abomination the sloth demon had inhabited lay, dead. Or at least whatever you call a downed abomination... I'll stick with "dead". Next to it was the body of a robed human. Niall.

"Poor bastard..." I muttered, stooping over to examine the corpse. I found a scroll, faintly glowing with some sort of magical energy.

"Is this the Litany of Adralla?" I asked. When it was confirmed that it was, I stowed it.

I gave Niall's body one last look.

"When this is over, he'll probably just be another number..." I sighed, then turned to address the group. "We can't dwell here. If you're all functioning again, then let's go."

Our continued path through the tower was uneventful for several rooms. We walked through what seemed like a library. Out of nowhere, when I opened a door, a group of dragonlings began to attack.

I looked across the room to see a small group of toppled and broken cages, as well as the bloody corpse of someone that was presumably their handler. Disbelievingly, I looked around to see that there were indeed bookshelves on the wall.

"Who keeps dragons in a library?" I asked exasperatedly.

Any possible answers were interrupted by a jet of flame streaming from one of their mouths. I dodged the flames, barely (_that _was an experience I had no desire to repeat), and launched into an attack on said dragonling. Dragonlings are much weaker than other kinds of dragons. Their scales are softer and much more vulnerable to arrows, swords, and so on. There were a few of them, but still not enough to pose a real threat.

When they were dealt with, we continued to the next door. It opened to reveal a hallway containing several abominations. I almost smiled. I had just been put through hours of annoyance, anger, and frustration, without it actually taxing me physically. I was, to put it simply, in a fighting mood.

They didn't stand a chance.

A few minutes and at least one forgettable fight against demons later, I opened the door to the stairway chamber.

The room was particularly full with... gore... but for once, that wasn't the most eye-catching sight. Neither were the several dozen mutilated corpses strewn about. No, in this case, that would be the enormous circular purple glowing magic prison. In said enormous circular purple glowing magic prison, a man in templar armor crouched, in what looked like a prayerful position.

When we approached the prison, the templar inside temporarily stood up to glare at us.

"This trick again? I know what you are. It won't work. I will stay strong," he said, before returning to his crouched position.

"A templar," I mused. "Alive... appears to be sane... but trapped... Jowan, do you recognize him?"

At the sound of that name, the man quickly scanned my companions, and, on seeing Jowan, stood up and hit his arms once against the side of the prison.

"You! Maleficar bastard! I..." He calmed down. "It...it's just a trick. Just trying to get under my skin."

Jowan considered for a moment, examining the man.

"I think that's Cullen. I've seen him a few times, and Daylen said he was there at his Harrowing."

"Anything else you know about him?"

"That would be useful now? I don't think so...He's pretty strict, but I heard he has a soft spot for some elf girl... Neri? Naria? something like that. An apprentice, if I recall correctly. I am speaking from experience when I say that it wouldn't have worked out between them."

During the last few sentences, Cullen had begun to visibly shake and cry a bit.

"These blood mages... getting into my head, pulling out my deepest secrets just to torture me with them." With more resolve, he continued, "No... I will not break... I'd rather die..."

"Um... None of us are bloo... Well, none of us are trying to get into your head. We're here to help, actually."

"Silence!" he nearly screamed. "I'll not listen to anymore of your lies. Now begone!"

He squeezed his eyes shut and reopened them.

"What? You're still here? That always worked before. I close my eyes, but you are still here when I open them."

"Shocking," I remarked drily. "I'm tired of this. Just tell me where the mages are."

"What?"

"The mages..." I replied impatiently. "The first enchanter and the others who didn't go along with the rebellion. It's not that complicated."

"They are in the Harrowing chamber, he said, sounding traumatized. He pointed toward the stairs. "The sounds coming out of there... Oh, Maker..."

"We need to go... We don't have much time," Wynne told me.

"You can't save them!" Cullen insisted hysterically. "You don't know what they've become..."

"If there are mages who can be saved, I don't have the option of not saving them."

"But... they've been surrounded by _blood mages_, whose wicked fingers twist into your mind and corrupt your thoughts!"

"He's most likely lost more than a few friends in the past few days..." Alistair commented.

"He has likely suffered anguish few could even imagine... Regardless, that's confusing the issue for him," Wynne said.

"Do **not** judge me, mage. I am thinking clearly."

"From your perspective, maybe. From my perspective, I need the assistance of mages and also possess the basic morality that tells me not to slaughter indiscriminately."

"But this is _right_! In order to ensure the safety of the Circle and Ferelden, to ensure that no abomination or blood mage is left alive, you must kill _everyone _up there!"

"No."

"What?!"

"I need mages, and I'm not murdering innocents. If you don't like that... well, there's not much you can do, is there?"

"No... but I _would_ enjoy dealing with the mages myself... No one ever listens until it's far too late..."

"If no one ever listens, maybe the problem is in what you're saying..." I turned to the group and pointed to the stairs. "Come on."

We moved and went up the stairs.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

The Circle Tower. Harrowing Chamber

As we reached the Harrowing chamber, we could see a bald mage and several abominations performing some kind of ritual on a struggling mage, after which it rose as another abomination. Off to the side, several more bound mages watched in horror.

When we emerged into the room, the bald mage, who I both knew was and recognized from Ostagar as Uldred, turned to face us. His face was emotionless, but still alert.

"Ah... look what we have here. An intruder. I bid you welcome. Care to join in our... revels?"

"No thank you. You're Uldred, correct? I remember you from Ostagar. You seemed sane then."

"Hmm... Yes. I take it from your arrival here that you've killed my servants. Ah, well. Probably better dying in the service of their betters than living with the terrible responsibility of independence."

"It's good you feel that way... Your fate will soon match theirs."

"Wait! Let's not be hasty... I am attempting to have a civilized conversation here."

"All but one of those words are true... Speak, then. Might as well make the end of your life last."

"A mage is but the larval form of a greater creature... what your Chantry calls 'abominations', when they have simply reached their true potential. I can offer this gift, this glory to all mages." He turned to one of the abominations and told it, "Tell them."

"It is a great gift he has given us," it said in a deep, echoing voice.

"See?"

"You're mad!" Wynne exclaimed. "There's nothing glorious about this, Uldred!"

"Haha... Uldred? I am Uldred, yet... not... I am something more, something a lesser being could only dream of. This power could be given to you and all mages, Wynne. But some people can be stubborn... Hmm... perhaps some of the other mages would be more open?"

"I think not" was Morrigan's aloof response.

"I'd die first" was Jowan's.

"That is amusing, coming from someone already halfway there," he told Jowan.

"If you're done making pathetic attempts to subvert my party, I'm still planning to kill you."

"Resistance!" he complained. "Everywhere, resistance! I even have the first enchanter on my side, don't I, Irving?"

In the group of bound mages, an old man with grey hair and beard struggled to speak clearly, sounding like he was fighting to talk.

"St-top him... He is... building an army..."

"Now, now. That's enough out of you. And here I thought you were going to turn..."

"Never," the man spat defiantly.

"That's enough! You will _all _serve me eventually... including you," he told me.

"You'd have to kill me," I said, tensing up for the impending fight. Around me, I could see the others acting similarly—Leliana reaching for her quiver, Alistair readying his shield, Jowan pulling out his knife, and so on.

"Kill you? No, that would be a waste. I can tell you have a great deal of raw potential. That with the strength of a demon behind it would be unstoppable. I will make it so, regardless of how you feel about it!"

I heard Wynne remind me of the power of the Litany of Adralla. In my peripheral vision, I saw Jowan begin to slice open both of his hands. Uldred began to glow and increase in size... some sort of transformation. When he was about halfway changed from a human to what looked like a pride demon, Jowan made a motion with his blood-covered hands, casting a spell at him.

The misshapen beast began to glow even more brightly, enveloped in a corona of brilliant blue light. Its transformation stopped as it began shrieking in agony. A loud hissing sound reminiscent of burning came from it. It suddenly burst into azure flame and collapsed to its knees. Finally, as a blinding flash of blue light swept through the room, it exploded, burning to death the surrounding abominations.

"_Whoa_. What was _that_?" I asked, dumbfounded. I seemed to speak for everyone in the room, because, to a man, they were _all_ staring at Jowan in stunned silence.

The effects of his spell were clear. There were no living enemies or dead allies in the room. Uldred... or what _had_ been Uldred... was completely wiped away, with nothing but a few bits of ash remaining.

"Mana... clash..." Jowan said weakly. He managed to remain standing long enough to say, "You know... the more mana, the more... clash..." before collapsing.

* * *

9:39 Dragon

City of Amaranthine

"_Seriously_, Seeker," Mirevas began, annoyed, "_what_ is our problem with mana clash?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Every time I've mentioned it, you've randomly started to look uncomfortable. I don't get you... But, I guess I should've learned by now that no matter how bad your lies are, you'll stick with them."

* * *

9:30 Dragon

The Circle Tower, Harrowing Chamber

After staring at Jowan blankly for a few seconds, I snapped everyone out of their stunned silence by yelling, "Healing magic!"

Still with a distracted look on her face, Wynne began to channel healing magic toward Jowan. In a little while, he blinked his eyes open and returned to consciousness.

"As I was saying... what _was_ that?"

"We needed to kill Uldred. I could see him transforming into a demon, which would have been more powerful. I didn't want that to happen... and I wanted to test the limits of mana clash. I knew, in theory, at least, that it would be more effective on more powerful mages, and Uldred was _very _powerful. Well, those limits are quite high... as are the costs. I don't plan on doing that again in the future unless the situation _really_ calls for it."

"Good to know," I responded, still in a bit of shock.

I walked over to Irving.

"I am too old for this... and _very _confused," he said. "I believe I was just saved by... blood magic?"

"Experimental blood magic, at that."

"I can't say that I'm happy... Is that Jowan? The last I'd heard, he was still in Denerim under templar supervision. But he's somehow here, presumably past the templars."

"A lot has happened. He's a Grey Warden recruit now. Untouchable. He's trying to atone."

"But not for blood magic."

"No. Not for blood magic."

He sighed.

"I will be happy to simply put this behind us and move on. Come, we need to tell the templars the tower is ours again."

"Lead on," I responded wearily.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

The Circle Tower, Ground Floor

We—my group, Irving, and Cullen (who had been freed by Uldred's death)—walked through the big doors leading into the entrance chamber.

"Irving!" Greagoir exclaimed, sounding genuinely relieved. "I did not expect to see you alive again."

"It is over. Uldred is... dead..." Irving replied.

"He tried to corrupt them, make them into abominations," Cullen interjected. "We don't know how many have turned."

"_What_?" Irving asked. "Don't be ridiculous!"

"Of course he'd say that! He might be a blood mage!"

"Shut up, Cullen," I told him, tired of his paranoia.

"Yes... _I_ am the Knight-Commander," Greagoir reminded him, "and I will accept the first enchanter's assurance that all is well."

"What?" Cullen blustered. "But they might have deomns lying dormant-"

"Enough! I have made my decision." He addressed me. "You have proven yourself a friend of both the Circle and the templars."

"It took long enough... but it's worth it. Can I count on magical assistance against the Blight?"

"For that, you will need to ask the first enchanter, but I would assume so. Thank you for all that you have done for us."

"Yes."

I moved to Irving to request his aid against the Blight. He, of course, agreed. At that point, Wynne requested to him that she be allowed to leave to personally aid me. He agreed, and I was hardly in a position to refuse aid, so it was decided.

"One more thing," I said to him. "I know it will be hard so soon after something like this, but I have urgent need of magical assistance to help the arl of Redcliffe's son."

"What sort of assistance, and what sort of problem?"

"I believe we need about a half-dozen mages and some lyrium. He's been possesed by a demon."

"Possessed? But... do you intend to enter the Fade? Yes, that would work... You are right that it will be difficult right now, but I think we can manage it. I will begin preparations at once."

"Thank you. You would not believe how long I spent trying to pull this off..."

"I also have not had the best past few days, as you can no doubt imagine."

Finally finished with the seemingly simple tasks I had left Redcliffe to perform, I walked toward the door and walked out to board a boat: Next stop, Redcliffe.

Well, next stop, Lake Calenhad Docks, then onto a different boat to Redcliffe, but the spirit is the same.

* * *

**AN**: Thanks for the reviews from SharpRevan, Pintsizedpsycho, and Ruven aka Lee.


	18. 17: Redcliffe Castle, Pt 3

**Chapter 17: Redcliffe Castle, Part 3**

9:30 Dragon

Redcliffe Castle

The trip back across Lake Calenhad was even less eventful than the first, and within a day or so, we had reached the castle again. With haste, we ran across the courtyard toward the entrance. We quickly went though the door and walked to the great hall.

In it, many people were standing. Near the center Isolde and Teagan were nervously conversing. A bit away, Irving and a few other Circle mages were waiting.

"How did they get here before us?" I asked.

"Magic."

"I suppose I walked into that one. Now, I believe we should begin."

"We have brought lyrium and begun preparations for the ritual," Irving said. "With Jowan back to assist, we can begin at any time."

"Is there anything I should know about this ritual?"

"We only have enough lyrium to send one person into the Fade, and it must be a mage. Whoever is sent must be able to resist the demon's offers—it seems like a demon of desire, and will likely make attempts to make deals."  
"It has to be a mage, then? That rules out me. Do you have any advice as to who should go?"

"Hmm..." He seemed deep in thought. "I can vouch for myself and Wynne when it comes to strength and morality, but... it is a lot to ask of either of us. On the other hand, I can't speak for either of your... companions."

I turned to Jowan and Morrigan and gave them an expectant look.

"We have wasted enough time here already..." Morrigan remarked. "Choose someone else."

Jowan spent a bit of time thinking, then responded, "I don't know. I think-"

"No!" Isolde interrupted. I'd almost forgotten she was there. "I will not trust my son's life to this blood mage murderer!"

"You were willing to-"

Teagan gently cut in, saying, "In this situation, I would agree with her. You have other options, yes?"

"Fine. Would you be willing to do it, Wynne?"

"I could hardly say no. A child's life is at stake."

"Then it's settled. Let's begin."

The ritual wasn't very complicated. All that it really involved was the group of mages channeling some sort of special magical energy into the participant (in this case Wynne). Her eyes glazed over, and she collapsed. About ten or fifteen minutes later, she woke up.

"It is done," she said simply.

Isolde immediately ran toward Connor's room. Teagan and I followed after her, more slowly. We caught up with her as she was yelling at Sten.

"I will allow you in when the Warden tells me it is safe," he told her impassively.

"Sten, it should be over now."

He moved aside, allowing her to rush into the room. Inside, Connor was sitting, with a confused expression on his face.

"Mother? How did I get here? I don't remember..."

"Connor! You are yourself again!"

"Myself? What? I don't understand..."

"Isolde, perhaps you should pace out your explanations," Teagan suggested. He turned to me and said, "Let's leave these two to their reunion. There is somewhere we should go before we discuss anything further."

I nodded and followed him to the village, on the coast. We watched solemnly as the village put their dead from the initial undead attacks to rest. Redcliffe has a rather... unique approach to doing that. Specifically, they launch their dead out to sea on boats and then ignite the boats with fire arrows. Seems a bit roundabout and impractical, but some traditions are weird. After that, we returned to the castle and I had a conversation with Teagan and Isolde.

"So it is over," Teagan said. "I can hardly believe that after all of that, Connor is finally himself again. He seems to not remember what happened. This is a blessing, though we cannot expect it to last forever. I suppose he will have to be sent to the Circle to train, once this is all over... I never expected him to be a mage, of all things. If Eamon recovers, he will have a lot to deal with, but at least his son and wife both made it."

"Thank you for all you have done," Isolde told me. I couldn't tell if the thanks were genuine or forced, and I didn't really care.

"One piece of advice: If Eamon recovers, keep Jowan far away from Redcliffe. I'm sure you understand why," Teagan told me.  
"Noted. How is is Eamon?"

"He is alive, and stable... but comatose. He doesn't seem to be waking up."

"The Urn!" Isolde cut in. "The Urn of Sacred Ashes will save Eamon!"

"The Urn?" I asked skeptically. "The same Urn you've had all your knights looking for for months? Isn't there something else? Magic, maybe?"

"We have tried magic and will continue, but we have had no luck so far."

"Have you found any evidence that the Urn is anything more than a fable? I'm fighting a Blight, and I can't waste my time on stories."

"A scholar in Denerim, Brother Genitivi, was making progress on finding its location," Isolde insisted. "I sent knights to try to find him, but they had trouble."

"Hmm... I need Eamon. If this is the only way to heal him..." I sighed. "It's a start to an investigation anyway."

"You are going to Denerim, then? It seems the only place to start... I wish you luck, then, and may the Maker go with you."

It was then I remembered.

_Denerim? Capital city. Where Loghain most likely is. Where I killed a nobleman and probably left a few problems in my wake. This will probably be some kind of homecoming._

* * *

**AN**: Sorry for the super-short chapter. The next one will be a party-camp one, and it should be a lot longer.

**AN 2**: Thanks to SharpRevan and Pintsizedpsycho for the reviews.

**AN 3**: Thanks to everyone for helping me break 4k views!


	19. 18: Interlude III-1

**18: Interlude III-1**

9:30 Dragon

Camp

What I wasn't thinking was that the "homecoming" wouldn't be for a while. Denerim is quite far from Redcliffe. It took about a month. Quite an eventful month, as well.

The first night after we left Redcliffe, Alistair decided to talk to me.

"I want to talk about what happened. At Redcliffe," he said.

"What happened? What do you mean? There were some complications, but I don't see how it could have gone any better..."

"I wanted to thank you. It would have been easier to just let someone die, but you were able to save everyone. With so much death, it feels good to have been able to save something... I owe the arl that much."

"That's what we're fighting for, right? Saving people? Considering we're trying to stop the Blight, it won't be the last time."

"I suppose not. Well, now that the warm, fuzzy parts of the day are over, we can get back to the ritual dismemberments. Oh, wait... It's not Tuesday, is it?"

Laughing, I replied, "Well, the warm, fuzzy parts of the day might _not_ be over. Wait here, I need to go get something."

I moved over to where my pack was lying and rummaged through it to find an amulet, broken but repaired. I walked back and handed it to Alistair.

"Uh... an amulet? I think you might be getting the wrong idea..."

"Huh? What?" I asked quizzically. I paused to think. Then what he meant dawned on me.

"Oh. _Oh._ No. No, no... I think _you're_ misinterpreting this. I'm not... Just look more closely at it."

He obliged. He examined it, seeing the cracks where it had been mended.

"This... this is my mother's amulet. I remember the way the broken pieces looked. But... where did you find this?"

"It was back in Redcliffe castle. I was going to give it to you sooner, but, you know, one thing led to another..."

"The castle? Does that mean... Did the arl find it and repair it? Why would he have kept it so long?"

"Can't really say. Maybe he wanted to return it someday?"

"Maybe so. He might even have tried to return it when he visited me in the monastery, but I never listened then... Thank you, regardless. I was sure this was lost because of my own stupidity. If the arl—_when _the arl recovers, I need to talk to him about this.

"Did you remember me talking about this? I was just rambling, and usually people don't listen to me then."

Feigning ignorance, I replied, "What? Were you saying something?"

"Oh, ha ha," he replied sarcastically.

I then went to Jowan.

"I believe we were having a conversation?" I said to him.

"What? Oh... yes... I've just been trying to process the last few days. They were... eventful, to say the least."

"Oh. Is this about the tower? What happened there wasn't your fault."

"That does little to alleviate the pain of all that death. And one thing definitely _was_ my fault."

_ Oh. Right._

Hesitantly, I replied, "Your friend... made his own decisions. That probably doesn't help, but he chose to go along with it. If it's anyone's fault, it's the templars'."

"He made the decision to follow _me._ I want to believe it wasn't my fault, but it was..."

"It doesn't matter, anyway. I've tried to be gentle with telling you this, but as a Warden-Recruit, whatever happened before is secondary to your current goals."

He shook his head and sighed.

"You're right... I'll try to adjust. It's... a big change. A few days ago, I was facing death. It was awful, but it worked as a distraction from what I'd done...Anyway, what did you want to talk about?"

"There's something I've been wondering since I met you. All I've heard about blood magic for as long as I can remember is rhetoric about its evil. Yet you seem like a good person. Is there anything to the Chantry's position, or is it just propaganda?"

"There definitely is something to their position. It's...complicated. Inherently, there's nothing wrong with blood magic. However, there are _many_ problems with it. First, it's almost impossible to learn without consulting demons, giving blood mages a disproportionate risk of possession. Also, corrupt blood mages often use unwilling blood sacrifices, giving the practice a... somewhat tainted reputation."

"I can imagine..."

"Yes... Blood magic is also required for mind control, generally considered one of the most evil forms of magic. A portion of the stigma is also political. The magisters of old that oppressed the world were nigh-universally maleficarum. And finally, because the Chantry refuses to study the practice, it continues a cycle where they refuse to allow mages any powers they don't understand."

"It seems like a risky way of using magic."

"It is. It really is."

"If you ever start to seem like you're being corrupted..."

"Kill me. It shouldn't happen. I've never consorted with spirits, and I've worked hard to keep myself pure. But if I fall, kill me."

"That's an admirable position to take."

"Maybe. I might not have fully considered what I was getting into when I began this, but I'll be damned if I'm not going to take responsibility now."

"I... good? It's hard for me to respond. You've... given me a lot to think about...Goodbye."

After that conversation, I did one small thing before sleeping. I had picked up a book describing edible and medicinal plants, which I rightfully thought would be useful in the wilderness. I tried to find in it the flowers I had found in Redcliffe. It turned out they were a wildflower called "Andraste's Grace". They were completely useless practically, but I decided to keep them. They smelled nice, even after being in my pack for days.

That was the end of the first day. Like before, the next month, approximately, just blurred together. Unlike before, a _lot_ of things happened. Be prepared.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

On the road

The next day, I had a talk with Wynne. It was the first time we'd had a serious discussion since e left the tower. It went better than I expected, though not very well.

"Are my companions going to be a problem?" I asked, trying to stay polite.

"Hmm... a Qunari, a hedge mage, and a _maleficar_... You are _very _lucky that you're fighting a Blight," she replied sternly.

"I'd like to remind you that _you_ chose to come with _me_," I retorted. "I doubt Irving would have a problem with your return."

"_Someone_ needs to watch over this insanity."

Annoyed, I replied, "Well, be thankful that we need all the help we can get." and turned and walked away.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

On the road

I had an interesting conversation with Leliana a few days later. She surprised me. She seemed to possess a strange blend of world-wisdom and naivete. She started by asking me about my past.

"Did you always live in an alienage?" she asked. "Was it very terrible?"

"Maker!" I muttered. "I thought _I_ was blunt." I paused. "Um... yes and... usually yes. I didn't think much of it at the time—I didn't know any better—but looking back now, it was an awful place to live. It wasn't completely bad, though—my family made it livable."

"Oh," she replied, sounding unsure as to how to respond. "It is... good?... I suppose, to hear that it isn't all bad. I have never been to the Denerim alienage, but I have heard that is is very... _squalid._ In Orlais, most elven servants live in relative comfort in their master's homes."

"Ha! I'm a bit too Ferelden for that. There are very few things we consider worse than slavery, and poverty isn't one of them."

"It's serfdom, not slavery! There is no slavery in Orlais..."

"Same bullshit, different label. When Fereldans say there are no slaves here, we mean it."

"It isn't slavery," she insisted. "Some elves live better than most humans. Well-trained elven servants are highly valued. They are nimble, dextrous, and many consider them pleasant to look at."

"So... like slaves then? Or pets maybe?"

"I—no! I didn't mean... I... chose my words poorly. I didn't mean to offend... I am sorry."

"Don't be. You're better than most. Just realize that you see us differently, and learn."

"I suppose I do. I hadn't even thought of that. My long-held beliefs and prejudices just seem... right. Thank you for... opening my eyes."

"No problem. It's good for both of us. Now, as long as you've interrogated me about my past, what about yours? Where are you from? Somewhere in Orlais, right?"

"Not exactly. I _was_ born in Orlais, but my mother was Fereldan...presumably my father, too, but I've never met him. My mother served an Orlesian lady, Cecilie, during the Orlesian occupation. After the war, things became... hostile... toward Orlesians, so she returned to Orlais and took my mother with her. She was always telling me stories of her homeland...she missed it, I think.

"Well, anyway, she died when I was young. I had nowhere to go, so Lady Cecilie let me. I have more memories of her than my mother... It's unfair, but... the past is the past.

"All I can really remember of Mother is her scent. She always smelled of a particular Ferelden wildflower that she kept in her closet, among her clothes. It was called Andraste's Grace. It had a sweet smell and it was very rare in Orlais."

She sighed, smiling wistfully.

"Ah, but enough reminiscing. Perhaps we can continue this conversation another day."

I nodded wordlessly.

_Well, that's quite the coincidence_, I thought to myself, making a mental notes to remember those flowers.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

On the road

And remember I did. I didn't have to remember for very long, though. The next day, in fact, I went back to her with the Andraste's Grace. They were quite withered after over a week of being picked, but their distinctive scent still surrounded them.

After I handed the flowers to her, she gave me a quizzical look and said, "Oh... flowers? Thank you... they're... very pretty..."

And then the realization hit.

"Oh, no. Not again. I... uh... I didn't mean... Remember yesterday? You were talking about..."

She gave the flowers a closer look and brought them up to her face to smell. A huge smile spread across her face.

"These... these were her favorite... I haven't seen these in so long! They smell just like Mother used to. How...?"

"I found them back at Redcliffe. I thought they might be medicinal, actually."

She laughed.

"If this were a story, I would not believe it..." She wrapped her arms around me, saying, "Thank you. Thank you _so much._"

"Uh... I... you're welcome..." I replied awkwardly, waiting for an opportunity to disentangle myself.

When she pulled away, I unconsciously backpedaled a few steps and quickly said, "Uh, if we're done here, I have to be... somewhere else." I shot a glance backwards to see Alistair a distance away, giving me what he probably thought was a knowing smile and half-walked, half-ran toward Sten, far away. I saw Leliana looking mildly confused as I moved away.

I had wanted to talk to Sten anyway. I really wanted to have a conversation more than thirty seconds long with him.

"Yes?" he asked in his usual taciturn way.

I was actually unprepared, so I quickly thought of a question.

"Uh... don't Qunari come from far away?"

"Yes..." he replied impatiently.

"So why are you here?"

"To answer a question."

"For who?"

"The arishok."

"The arishok?"

"Yes."

"No, I meant, who is the arishok?"

"The commander of the antaam—the body of the Qunari."

"And what was the question?"

"'What is the Blight?'"

"And did you find the answer?"

"Part of it."

"So... are you waiting to find the rest of it before you go back?"

"...no. That is not the problem. I cannot go back. Ever."

"I don't suppose you'll tell me why?"

"No. Not now, anyway."

"Huh. Well, stay with us. We aren't exactly being hurt by your combat skills."

"...Thank you. We should move on. We keep the darkspawn waiting."

I nodded, and moved away. I had long since learned that Sten wouldn't tolerate being pestered.

A memory suddenly flashed into my head. I remembered the tome I had found in the Circle tome. I walked back to my tent and retrieved it, secretively. I walked far away to Morrigan's camp. (I had considered briefly which of my "darker" mages to approach first, and Morrigan seemed the "darkest".)

"Yes?" she asked, looking at me disinterestedly.

"I found something back at the Circle Tower that I thought you might be interested in," I replied quietly. I pulled out the book and showed it to her.

She looked at the book with the closest thing to childlike glee she was capable of feeling. It was a bit evil.

"I had thought it might be recoverable from the tower in the chaos, but I was planning on telling you later. This is... fortuitous..."

"Uh... what is it?" I asked, handing it over hesitantly.

"This is my mother's grimoire. It was stolen by templars and apparently taken to the tower. You have my thanks."

"Uh... you're welcome," I said worriedly. "What's in it?"

"Secrets, I assume. My mother had many, but she usually kept them safer. This will be an opportunity to learn more than she wanted me to, and I will not squander it."

Before I could say another word, she sat down by the fire and opened up the book.

I shrugged and went to my tent to sleep.

* * *

9:30 Dragon

On the road

I had quite a few conversations with Alistair. Most of them aren't worth mentioning. They were either about templars, which would be nothing new to you, or about the Wardens, who I would prefer to keep the secrets of. There were a few exceptions, though.

* * *

"We're heading to Denerim, right? To find this 'Brother Genitivi'?" he asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"I was wondering if we could look someone up when we get there?"

"You have a friend outside the Wardens?"

"Not exactly..."

"A _friend_?"

"Maker, no! She's my sister... well, half-sister. My mother, the serving girl at Redcliffe castle, had a daughter. I did a bit of research, and she lives in Denerim now."

"Would she even know you?"

"I don't think so... My birth was kept a secret. Still, she's my only family left, and the only one separate from all this royal stuff."

"We'll probably have time... but what do you even expect will happen?"

"...I don't know. All I have is a name and where she lives. But something has to happen, right?"

"...maybe. Just... Alistair, your dream in the Fade? That isn't going to happen."

He cringed at that memory.

"Yes. I know. Thank you."

* * *

There was a particularly amusing conversation that I forget the context.

"So, you were raised by the Chantry most of your life?" I asked.

"Yes."

"So, have you never...?"

"Never what?"

"Uh... well... what do you think life in the Chantry would stop you from doing? I think you know."

"I don't, actually. Have I never had a decent bed? That was a problem in Chantry life. Have I never licked a lamppost in winter?"

"What? You're just mocking me now..."

"What?" he asked with exaggerated offense. "Mock our glorious leader and my dear comrade-in-arms? I'm being completely serious. How about you? Have you ever licked a lamppost in winter?"

I rolled my eyes and decided to play along.

"No. There were no lampposts in the alienage."

"Good for you. It seems like it would be painful."

"Yes it does. Now, sex?"

He sighed.

"No. You?"

"Nope. We're so close-knit in the alienage it would be like sleeping with my sister."

"Interesting. Now, if there are no more intimate details of my life you want to learn, goodbye."

* * *

9:30 Dragon

On the road

At some point in the early part of the month-blur, I talked more to Leliana.

"So, what was it like back in Orlais? My only perception of the country is filtered through Fereldan bias?"

"Val Royeaux is a beautiful city. It is unique of the places I've seen. It is a city first and foremost. Unlike Denerim, for example, the people of Val Royeaux are secondary to the city itself. And music—there is music everywhere in Val Royeaux, streaming from the windows, and rising above it all—the Chant, coming from the Grand Cathedral."

"Sounds nice, I guess. All I've heard of Val Royeaux is about its alienage. They say that the city packs ten thousand elves into a tiny space, with walls so high that sunlight only reaches the vhenadahl until midday."

"I... never saw the alienage, but it would not surprise me. Val Royeaux, like much of Orlais, is beautiful, but two-faced."

"Huh. Interesting. I'm sorry for distracting you; please go on."

"Well, there was much to love in Orlais. It's silly, but I loved the fine things I had in Orlais."

"Yes, it does sound silly, but I can see that must have been a big change."

"It was, but I was able to adapt. There's more to life than dresses and shoes. Ah, shoes... Orlais had the finest shoes. They made the absurd fashions worth it."

I stared for a bit, confused.

"Shoes? As in, the kind you wear on your feet? Shoes are shoes. They cover your feet."

"Well, yes, but that's not all they do! If you saw a beautiful woman dancing in a beautiful dress, surely you would want to her to have beautiful shoes as well."

I stared for even longer.

"Speaking as someone who has never seen 'beautiful shoes', or a 'beautiful dress', for that matter, I don't care. Beauty is beauty."

"Well, that's good for you, but," she sighed, "sometimes a girl just wants to have nice shoes."

"Well, sorry, but it doesn't really matter anyway. Ferelden is mud-and-dogshit country, your shoes wouldn't stay nice long anyway."

"Spoilsport."

"Sorry," I replied insincerely, backing away.

Soon after, while traveling, I continued my practice of recruiting people whose recruitment would make you angry in the future.

* * *

**AN**: Been awhile. Going to try and update at least once a week, but no promises.

**AN 2**: Thanks to the usual suspects (SharpRevan and Pintsizedpsycho) for the reviews.

**AN 3**: There is going to be a _lot_ of stuff before Denerim. Expect 2-4 more chapters of in-between stuff.


	20. 20: Interlude III-2

**19: Interlude III-2**

9:30 Dragon

On the road, literally

It was around midday, and we were moving down the road, approaching a curve.

A woman ran toward us and breathlessly began speaking.

"Oh, thank the Maker! We need help! They attacked the wagon! Follow me; I'll take you to them."

She turned and began running. I peered down the road. From where I was, I could see a wagon, a dead ox, and a few people in armor standing and not doing anything.

"Careful," I warned the group. "Trap or real, there's going to be a fight." My hands moved instinctively to my sides, ready to draw my sword and dagger. Once we prepared ourselves we started moving again.

We reached a clearing just after the woman and I saw her nod toward a dark-skinned, tattooed elf.

"Trap, then," I sighed to myself.

Smirking, the elf motioned forward with his hand, and a group of crossbowmen moved from their hiding place behind a rock.

I glared into the elf's eyes.

"Well?" I asked. Then a creaking sound reached my ears. I shot a quick glance sideways to see a tree loosely attached to the ground.

"Shit. Everyone move!" I yelled giving everyone just enough time to move as the tree crashed to the ground.

Looking even more smug, the elf made another motion, and his men attacked. Even the woman he had used as bait began to fight, lightning beginning to crackle around her hands.

There were about five foot soldiers on the ground, and five crossbowmen on the high ground, plus the elf and the mage.

As soon as she recovered from the shock, Leliana immediately began taking shots at the crossbowmen. Morrigan also turned her attention to them, but she went about it in a more impressive manner. She turned into some sort of black bird (a raven, maybe?) to ascend to their level, then shapeshifted into a bear and began attacking. As it turns out, very few people are prepared to suddenly fight a bear at close range, and crossbows are also not particularly good close-range weapons.

As that carnage was going on, the rest of us were fighting on the ground. The elf drew two daggers but stayed back from the fighting. I made sure to glance at him once in a while to make sure he didn't get the drop on anyone. This was made somewhat more difficult by the other people fighting, as they charged and fought very aggressively. It was relatively easy to fight defensively, until I was blindsided by a blast of lightning from bait-lady. Mentally cursing her for reminding me of the _very_ uncomfortable feeling of electrified metal, I told Dane, "Go get _her_."

While he charged toward her, she launched a fireball toward him. It singed his fur and elicited a howl of pain from him.

"You bitch!" I yelled at her. She briefly turned her attention to me to look smug. It was for just long enough to distract her from the burned, incredibly angry dog launching himself at her. I let a smirk cross my face for just a bit, then refocused on the two swordsman attacking me. After a bit more back-and-forth, I was able to strike at the sword hand of one of them. It connected, and his sword fell out of his hands as he swore and yelled in pain. This let me focus on the other, knock his shield away, and successfully slash at his neck. By then, the other had recovered somewhat and attacked again. Unfortunately for him, his grip was significantly weakened, and I easily knocked his sword away again. As he scrabbled for his sword, I stuck my sword in his back.

I glanced at Alistair just in time to shout, "Look out!" to warn him from a surprise attack by the elf. My personal foes dealt with, I moved toward the elf. He was also using a two-weapon style, but utilizing two daggers instead of the sword-and-dagger approach I was using then. That complemented his style, which focused more on speed and agility than brute force. With a bit of unease, I noticed that his blades were slathered with a thick black substance I could only assume was poison.

_Not too hard..._ I thought to myself._ Just have to... not get hit... at all._

The fight was fairly balanced. He dodged and tried to hit me at my armor's weak spots, and I fought defensively, blocking his blows and able to deal more damage due to his weaker armor. I was gaining the advantage when he saw that my companions were finished with their combats and could focus on him. He looked like he was about to turn and run when I ducked to the side to allow Alistair to smash him with his shield. He crumpled to the ground.

"Everyone else dealt with?" I asked, breathing deeply. When I received an affirmative response, I looked down at the elf. He was bleeding and unconscious, but appeared to be breathing. I tuned to Leliana and motioned to her to tie up the elf. Once he was tied tightly I turned back to the other.

"He was the leader," I said, pointing at him. "Wynne, could you heal him a bit? He's alive, and I want to know what's going on here."

She looked a bit unsure, but she complied.

He blinked his eyes open, looking around blearily.

"...What?" he asked, in an accent I didn't recognize. "I rather expected to wake up dead... or not at all, I suppose. But it seems I'm still alive."

"For now..." I responded. "I have questions I want you to answer."

"Ah. I am to be interrogated. Well, as I prefer to avoid torture when it is possible, allow me to save you some time. I am Zevran, one of the Antivan Crows. I was sent here to kill any surviving Grey Wardens. I've been... less than successful, if you couldn't tell."

"I'm sorry. Really," I replied drily, rolling my eyes.

"I suppose sympathy would be too much to ask for, but getting captured by a target isn't the best thing for one's budding assassin career."

"Must be terrible. What are the Antivan Crows?"

The assassin looked mildly offended at this, but before he could say anything, Leliana chimed in.

"I can answer that. They are an order of assassins working out of Antiva. Very powerful, and renowned for getting their jobs done. They're considered the greatest assassins in the world by many."

"I'm surprised you haven't heard of us," Zevran said, sounding a little offended. In a slightly arrogant voice, he continued, "We're quite infamous back in Antiva."

"Among your targets, or your patrons?" I quipped.

"Oh, very funny. Is mocking your prisoners a Fereldan custom?"

"More of a personal one. So, as if I couldn't already guess, who hired you for the job?"

"A fellow in the capital... Loghain, I believe his name was? Yes, that sounds right."

"Thought so. You know, I'm interested. How much were we worth to you?"

"To _me_? Nothing. From what I understand, a handsome sum changed hands from Loghain to the Crows, though. Life in the Crows isn't for the ambitious, you see."

"Not the ambitious type, then?"

"Partly. I was also bought by the Crows quite young. I understand I was quite a bargain.

"Ah, but don't let my story discourage you. They aren't so bad. Those in the Crows stay well-supplied... Wine, women, men... whatever you might enjoy."

"Yeah, no thanks."

"Just as well for you. The severance package is garbage. I'm sure you've other options."

"Yeah, whatever. Were you going to see Loghain again?"

"No. If I were successful, I was to return home and Loghain would have been informed. If not, I would be dead in the Crows' eyes, if not literally."

"_If_ not?"

"What can I say, I'm an eternal optimist." He laughed briefly, trailing off awkwardly.

"...no, I suppose that wouldn't be very funny to you."

"No, not really."

"Well, if you are finished asking questions, I have a proposal for you. The Crows do not tolerate failure; as such, my life is forfeit. But, as you might imagine, I like living. So here is what I propose: I will serve you instead. You seem the sort to give even the Crows pause."

I snorted derisively.

"You betrayed the Crows at the drop of a hat, and you expect me to believe you'll be loyal? This could just be a trick to finish the job."

"I am a _very_ loyal person until I am expected to die for failing. That's not such a fault, is it?"

At that, I laughed darkly.

"If we fail, the darkspawn will overrun Ferelden and we'll all either be killed by them or executed. What's that kind of loyalty supposed to be worth?"

"No, that I can deal with. That's _honest_ killing, nothing like what I would get in the Crows. Besides, why would I kill the person keeping the Crows away?"

"To finish the job?"

"And open myself to be killed on principle for failing?" he laughed. "No, I would be safer with you."

"Hmm... Thoughts?" I asked the rest of the group.

"You want us to take an assassin with us? I... don't think that's a good idea," Alistair said.

"I care not," Morrigan said. "Kill him or don't, I have no fear of him either way. I would advise you to watch your food and drink more closely should you bring him."

"Take him," Sten suggested. "If he is treacherous, kill him."

"Well... I can hardly argue against it, can I?" was Jowan's reply.

"You have already proven you cannot be dissuaded from insanity regarding your choice of companions," Wynne remarked bitterly. "I will not interfere.

I pondered for a bit.

"Won't we be pursued by the Crows if you're with us, and not lying, of course?"

"Perhaps. It is just as likely that you will be followed regardless. The contract still exists. If I accompany you, then you will have knowledge of the Crow's methods and I will have protection; best for us both, don't you agree?"

"What do you even have to offer?"

"Apart from insider knowledge of the Crows should they come for you again? I have many skill: fighting, locking, stealth... I also know a great many jokes, twelve massage techniques, six different card games? I do wonderfully at parties."

"Fine. I agree. But if I regret this, so will you."

"Uh... are you sure about this?" Alistair cut in.

"He's useful, and his arguments hold up. We can't be picky."

"I suppose. But if there was ever a sign we were desperate..."

I waved him off, muttering, "Yeah, yeah..."

Zevran began to swear his oath:

"I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you until you should choose to release me from it. I am your man, through and through. This I swear."

I cut him loose before I helped him to his feet, he dusted himself off, and our now-bolstered group continued on.

* * *

9:39 Dragon

City of Amaranthine

Mirevas looked expectantly at Cassandra.

"...what?" she asked, confused, after several seconds.

"You're... not going to be angry? Annoyed? Not going to say I'm crazy, suicidal, or stupid for recruiting an assassin literally five minutes after he tried to kill us?"

"After everything I've heard before now? No." Cassandra replied flatly.

"Well, you're no fun. All right, when we made camp that night..."

* * *

9:30 Dragon

Camp

...I decided to get to know our new companion better. Uh, not in that way. Just clearing things up, as these rumors are quite varied.

Anyway, we began to talk.

"If you're going to be working for me, I should know more about you," I told him.

"What do you want to know?"

"You seemed pretty quick to turn your back on the Crows. Why?"

"That's a fair question, I suppose. Being an assassin is a living, after all. I suppose it's simply that I was never given the choice to do anything else, so why not seize the opportunity if it presents itself?"

"What do you mean, you weren't given a chance?"

"I was bought by the Crows when I was very young. I cost three sovereigns, or so I was told. Probably a fair price, considering I was skin and bone and didn't know a dagger's point from its pommel. That's what the Crows do, buy their agents young and teach them to know nothing but killing. And if they fail, well... there are always more."

I hesitated for a brief moment.

"That... is the most despicable thing I have ever heard."

"It might seem that way, but those who succeed in the Crows—manage not to die—are able to enjoy the benefits. Being a Crow in Antiva gets you respect, wealth, women, men... whatever it is you might fancy. But it comes at the cost of doing what you are told, no matter what. And it means that you are always expendable. It is a cage, if perhaps a gilded one."

"What is wrong with you?" I asked, genuine bewilderment in my voice.

"Come again?"

"How can you not see the problems with this?"

"What problems? Assassination is a business like any other, except a bit messier."

"Even if that's true, _assassination_ is a business, _murder_ is not."

"What seems like one to you may seem like the other to them. It's all a matter of perspective."

"Destroying children's lives and murdering them if they don't live up to your standards is not something that can be justified by perspective! And you... you sound like you enjoy this! enjoy being a murder-for-hire!"

"Why not? There are many benefits to being a Crow in Antiva: Respect, fear, overt ignorance from the authorities, and handsome rewards. As for the killing... well, some people simply need assassinating. Or do you disagree?"

"I think that the decision of who those people are shouldn't be made by whoever has the most coin. Have you never killed an innocent?"

"Well, 'innocent', that's an interesting word. Is anyone truly innocent? Regardless, if we are speaking in generalities—children, bystanders, and so on—not on purpose, but it can happen sometimes. It is regrettable, but ultimately death must come to us all. If not me, then something else—a disease, an accident—"

"You're just making excuses. They're not even good ones."

"'Death happens,' as we say. And if I am paid, death happens more often.

"And as far as the killing itself, the action of sinking one's blade into another's flesh... why not? There is a certain artistry, a certain pleasure that can be gained from the knowledge that their life is in your hands."

"I don't find any pleasure in taking life. I kill to defend myself, or to defend others. I don't regret it, but I don't enjoy it either."

"It's not pleasure, exactly. Nothing sexual. More a sense of satisfaction, a feeling of power. Does that make sense?"

"Well... not from the act of killing, but from the effect of it... I suppose I could understand satisfaction."

"See? It makes sense."

"That's not what I-"

"There were things I did not enjoy about being a Crow, of course. Having no choice, being treated as expendable, and the rules... so many rules!"

"Are you even listening to me?"

"But simply being an assassin? I like it just fine. I will continue to do it, even if I am not a Crow. Can you see me doing anything else?"

"Oh, you're listening? Well, in the eight hours I've known you, you haven't shown much aptitude for anything except assassination. Oh, sorry, I meant, 'including'. Honestly, I don't know you, so surely you can do whatever you want."

"Well, I am content to merely do what I am good at. It is a talent few possess, and I see no reason why I shouldn't develop it. Of course, these thoughts are moot. Chances are good that both of us will end up dead, eaten by darkspawn or slain by the Crows. Very gruesomely, I imagine.

"But it is pleasant enough to chat about."

"You are a very strange man. But it doesn't seem like you're going to murder me in my sleep. Goodbye."

Rubbing my temples to ward off my fast-approaching headache, I took a look around camp. There was an out-of-the-ordinary sight. Standing off from the main camp stood a human I didn't recognize. I approached him wearily.

"I don't know who you are, b-"

"You're a hard man to find!"

He paused briefly.

"Where are my manners? The name's Levi. Levi Dryden. Did Duncan ever mention me? 'Levi the Trader'? 'Levi of the Coins'?"

I immediately turned my full attention to the man.

"Duncan? You knew Duncan?"

"Oh, yes, for years. Considered him a friend... But here I am, wasting your time while you have a Blight to stop! I'll put it simply: Duncan promised we would look into some business having to do with the Wardens, and I think he would want his work continued."

"What kind of promise did he make?" I asked warily.

"Well, back a few centuries, my great-great-grandmother, Sophia Dryden, was the last Warden-Commander of Ferelden before they were exiled. King Arland banished the Wardens and took all of House Dryden's land and titles."

"And then?"

"Can't really say. After King Arland's death, there was a civil war, even worse than this one, and the Drydens were on the run without a friend in the world. But we rebuilt ourselves as merchants and never lost our pride."

"Back on topic," I told him, trying to stay patient. "What favor did you ask of Duncan?"

"I want to find out the truth. Sophia Dryden died at the old Warden base at Soldier's Peak. Don't be surprised if you haven't heard of it; no one's visited it since Arland's days. Anyway, my family wants evidence to clear Sophia's name. I've spent years mapping out the maze to the base's entrance, and I found the way in. So I went to Duncan and said that he could reclaim the base and I could reclaim my family's honor."

"I assume that there's value in holding the base?"

"Yes. Duncan thought it would have strategic and symbolic importance, and he hoped to find some Warden relics."

"But then the darkspawn started to surface?"

He nodded.

"And I'm sure you know the rest."

"So, why do you need me?"

"Well... they say the base is haunted. Even if it's not, I'm sure there will be dangers. I can get in, but I'm not a fighter. Will you think about it?"

I considered for a moment.

"I can't help you right now. My mission is time-sensitive and very important. But this doesn't seem urgent. When... or if... I complete what I'm currently doing, I will accompany you to Soldier's Peak."

"A thousand blessings to you, Warden. I'll mark down the location on your map."

I nodded and walked away.

9:30 Dragon

Camp

A few days later, I managed to have another rare conversation with Sten—this one more major than any previous.

"I have been thinking of you," he stated when I approached him.

"I can't tell if that's good or bad," I replied.

"You are not as callow as I believed. That is... unexpected."

"Thank you," I said sincerely. Praise from Sten was very surprising. "Is there any way that now you will tell me the reason you were caged?"

"I caged myself. A weak mind is a deadly foe."

I motioned for him to continue.

"I told you that I was sent here. I was not alone."

"Was?"

"I came with seven of the Beresaad, my brothers. We made our way through the countryside without incident, seeing nothing of the Blight. Until the night we camped near Lake Calenhad.

"The darkspawn came from everywhere: The air, the earth, even our own shadows, it seemed."

"That sounds like Ostagar."

"I heard what happened at Ostagar. Your kith stood their ground as the army shattered around them. Nothing more could be asked of them.

"I don't know how long I lay on the battlefield, nor do I know how the farmers found me. I know only that when I awoke, I was no longer among my brothers. And my sword was gone."

"Your sword? You probably dropped it on the field."

"Perhaps. I searched for it. Then I asked my rescuers what had come of it."

"Did they know?"

"They said they found me with nothing."

"So... you killed them?"

"I did not have my sword—They had no reason to lie to me. So, unthinking, I struck them down."

"Why did your sword matter so much?"

"That sword was forged for my hand alone. I have carried it as long as I have served the Beresaad and I was to die wielding it for my people. If I could cross the entire continent, alone and unarmed, to deliver my report to the arishok, I would be slain on sight. Without my sword, to them I would be soulless, a deserter. No Qunari would cast away his sword while he drew breath."

"Weapons can't just disappear. Where did this battle take place?"

"Near Lake Calenhad."

"I remember near the docks talking to someone who said he'd received a tip about the area by someone named Faryn near Orzammar. When we need to go to Orzammar to recruit the dwarves, we can find him. We'll find your sword."

"Perhaps those are empty words... but thank you nonetheless."

* * *

**AN**: Yeah, I know. "It's been longer since the last update than it was between uploading and the last update." I've tried, but one thing after another has come up. But now I've been bitten by the Dragon Age bug again, so you can expect more chapters! I have the structure of the next few planned out, and the general progression of events for the rest of the story. There probably won't be any for the next week (semester exams), but I'll try to do a lot over Christmas break.

**AN 2**: I now have a beta reader. Thanks, pintsizedpsycho!

**AN 3**: It's been so long, I'm going to skip the comment-thank-yous. I'll start those up again next chapter.


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